Flowers From Hell
by chrysalizzm
Summary: Lieutenant Kaneki Ken, lieutenant of the Fifth Division under Captain Kurosaki Ichigo. As a half-ghoul whose powers had carried into the afterlife, he certainly wasn't going to have a peaceful time. Update: Geh on hiatus until I can get my life back together
1. Hollow

Flowers From Hell

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Hollow

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Frankly, Lieutenant Kaneki didn't believe that Hollows** **were still souls—until he cut one's mask. And then, suddenly, he was a veteran.**

 **This is a drabble collection for poor Lieutenant Kaneki (is still a ghoul, just doesn't use his kagune [much, winkwink]) and his adventures in Soul Society.**

 **I think I'll get to how he rose to power in time.**

 **He has two phrases for releases, one for his bankai and one for his shikai. To be fair though, his shikai release is a bit weak, meant to encourage the enemy and make them underestimate Kaneki's killing intent.**

 **Oop, really quick, I ship HidexKaneki and am proud! No M-rated stuff tho. Just hugs-and-kisses (with no, uh... tongue).**

 **Before all ya ladies and gents out there like me who hate shippings in fanfics, the KanekixHide thing is just to make Ichigo feel uncomfortable, I swear. If you want to know if there's any chapters mainly focused around that shipping, read the summary at the start of every chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: Please, does it look like I own Bleach or Tokyo Ghoul?**

 **Hiirokari: "scarlet wrath"**

 **Mukade Hiirokari: "centipede scarlet wrath"**

 **Release phrase: "Unmask, Hiirokari!"**

 **Second release phrase/bankai release phrase: "Bankai. Uncoil, Mukade Hiirokari."**

* * *

Lieutenant Kaneki Ken of the Fifth Division was famed for his accuracy. His zanpaku-tô, named Hiirokari, was suited for critical strikes and speedy recovery. He wasn't loved, not like Captain Kurosaki was, but he was respected, and had plenty of admirers (again, not like Captain Kurosaki, but he was the hero of the Winter War and had an overabundance of women after his blood).

So it was that not even once had he known what was behind a Hollow's mask.

He was similar to his Captain in that he had risen to his rank in a time of war and thus did not go through proper training, but Ichigo had had Rukia to guide him.

Ken had nobody.

So it was that he was patrolling Karakura town with his Captain (whose home this had been in life, Ichigo said), when suddenly, Ichigo's reiatsu climbed slightly as he reached out, sensing something.

"Shit! Hollow! C'mon, Kaneki!" He hissed. Ken, slightly startled (there was a pang somewhere in his heart; nearly no one, with the exception of Rize-san and... _him_ , ever called him Ken), promptly Flash-Stepped after Ichigo, arriving in a clearing, occupied by a large Hollow that somewhat resembled an overlarge rabbit. It stared straight at him and lunged.

Ken brought up Hiirokari and blocked the attack (instinct screamed for him to bring out his kagune), though wincing; two claws had found their way to his side and were currently ripping both the shihakushô and his skin to shreds. He pushed back and raised Hiirokari, taking off the mask and destroying the Hollow.

The figure dematerialized, but a small body remained—a human body.

Ken's heart stopped.

 _Nagachika Hideyoshi._

The boy—damn it, _man_ crawled towards his childhood friend, and later, lover, reaching up for his face. "Wow, Ken, is that you? It's been so long..."

Ken slowly, tentatively kneeled, in front of Hide, taking his hand—and suddenly, memories flooded back, a thousand moments and a thousand touches and a thousand smiles. _Hide._

"H-H-Hide—" gasped Ken, clutching his hand desperately. "I-I-I'll see you. In the Rukongai, no matter how long it takes, I'll find you, I'll bring you with me, we can really finally go _home_ —" He choked on the word.

 _"Let's just go home, Kaneki."_

"Calm down..." Laughed Hide, a breathy one that wasn't anything like him. His lower half had begun to turn to spirit particles. If not for this moment, Ken might never find him again, especially if he ended up in one of the rougher districts of the Rukongai.

"I'll see you, I know. If I saw you this late, I'll see you then." Ken swallowed hard, trying to fight down his panic, his overwhelming fear. More than half of Hide was gone at this point.

"Please, please promise me," he pleaded, hanging on to the small piece of Hide he had left. "Tell me you'll stay out of trouble, avoid death at all costs. I have to see you again, please!"

Hide chuckled, the last of him thinning into the heavy, reiryoku-tinted air. "Of course. You always were a girl, Ken..."

Ken stared at the spot he'd just met his oldest—and perhaps only—friend. Then all the energy seemed to seep out of him and he nearly collapsed if it weren't for Ichigo catching him. He'd completely forgotten that his captain was there.

"Whoa there, Kaneki," he said quietly. "Let's get you to Urahara-san."

* * *

Urahara was surprised to see them.

Well, maybe that was an understatement.

When Ichigo walked into the shop with his half-conscious Lieutenant hanging on for dear life to his awareness and Ichigo's shoulders, Urahara took one look and yelped.

Well, as Yoruichi had pointed out later, it was more of an undignified shriek.

The man clambered to his feet and quickly gave Kaneki a once-over before yelling over his shoulder, "Yoruichi-san! Kurosaki-san's lieutenant is in a bad state!"

Yoruichi Flash-Stepped over, took Kaneki, and Flash-Stepped away in the span of five seconds.

Ichigo sighed, rubbing his face. Urahara gave him a sympathetic look.

"Up for tea, Kurosaki-san?"

Minutes later, holding a steaming cup, Ichigo confessed, "I never really thought about Kaneki's past. He was one of the more quiet ones, taciturn. Only spoke when he needed to. Reminded me of Ulquiorra, he did. He came to power like I did, so... I suppose he didn't know."

"Didn't know what, Kurosaki-san?" Asked Urahara, not gently, but with considerably less hyperactivity.

"That there are human souls beneath the mask."

Urahara's brow creased. "Let me guess, someone from his past?"

"Someone very important to him," agreed Ichigo, and sighed deeply. "Must have been his best friend or something, but there was something else, something different. He seemed to be more than that."

Urahara paused for a moment, then suggested, "Partner?"

Ichigo spat half a cup of tea across the table, earning an alarmed squawk from his previous mentor. Panting and staring at Urahara, he said incredulously, "Kaneki's _gay_?"

"Not necessarily," pointed out Urahara. "He could be bisexual, or pansexual, or demisexual, or simply heterosexual with only one person in particular of the opposite sex of whom he is attracted to."

Ichigo just shook his head in disbelief. "Never thought it from Kaneki, of all people..."

Yoruichi called, poking her head from the doorway, "Hate to interrupt your absolutely lovely conversation, but Lieutenant Kaneki's asking for Ichigo and you, Kisuke."

"Oh," replied Ichigo lamely, standing, still gripping his cup in his hands.

"Why me?" Asked Urahara, but Yoruichi just shrugged with an sarcastic "I don't know. He wasn't all that specific." She then turned an accusing eye upon Ichigo. "His side's a mess. What exactly did you do to him?"

"We ran into a Hollow and he was caught off guard," said Ichigo, brushing past her. Yoruichi, about to turn into her cat form and claw him until he gave a proper explanation—he should know better than to test her patience—caught Urahara's eye. The ex-Shinigami shook his head at her subtly, so she satisfied herself with a very Ichigo-reminiscent scowl.

Kaneki, sitting up and facing the wall, barely stirred at the entrance of the two people he'd asked for, though his dark eyes flickered towards them.

There was a highly awkward silence.

Just as Ichigo was about to excuse himself, Kaneki said, "Kamishiro Rize."

"What?" Asked Ichigo, dumbfounded, but Kaneki plowed on: "That was the name of someone I had loved. But then..."

His fist clenched, turning his pale knuckles white. "She turned out to be a ghoul."

Ichigo wasn't able to stifle his gasp. Ghouls rarely wandered into Karakura Town, but he knew what Urahara had told him and what he'd gathered from television—that ghouls had a very high reiryoku and were much more spiritually tuned than usual. He'd never heard of an incident such as Kaneki's, however.

"I... She chased me, and then I collapsed. The next thing I remember, I was a half-ghoul."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Urahara, stopping Kaneki. "Did you carry over your ghoul powers? Do you still have your kagune?"

Kaneki hesitated for a moment—just for a moment, which Ichigo's high-speed eyes caught—then closed his eyes. Kakugan lines shot across his right eye and four scarlet tentacles rose from his back.

Ichigo stumbled back, slightly shocked. "Oh my God. My... My lieutenant's a ghoul. A ghoul is—is in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads!" He was slightly hysterical at this point, by which point Urahara was peppering a bewildered Kaneki with questions.

"You're a Rinakaku ghoul, yes? How many kakuhou do you have?"

"Does being a half-ghoul hinder your abilities at all?"

"Are all ghouls' kagune unique?"

And so on until Kaneki yelled, "I'm a kakuja!"

This caused a lull. Ichigo, who knew full well that Kaneki never raised his voice, never showed emotion, snapped his mouth shut. Urahara said, very evenly and without any signs of his former eagerness, "How?"

At this question, Kaneki looked down, his head of snow-white hair shrouding his expression. Only his hands, clenched so tight that they shook, and the tell-tale squeaking of his teeth grinding told them that a bad memory was associated with his descent into becoming a kakuja.

"...Never mind," said Urahara quietly, standing and making his leave.

"...Captain Kurosaki?" Ichigo glanced up at his lieutenant, who was toying with the sleeve of his shihakushô.

"Would you... Help me search the Rukongai for H-Hide?" This question was unexpected, and Ichigo stared at Kaneki, enough to make the half-ghoul Shingami uncomfortable. Squirming, he was about to take it back when Ichigo said, "Sure."

Kaneki didn't even inquire after his captain's sanity out of relief. "Thank you."

Ichigo turned to leave, having made his decision and done what he could, and his hand was at the sliding door when Kaneki asked softly, "Captain Kurosaki?"

Ichigo tilted his head to indicate he was listening.

"Please... Call me Ken."


	2. Friends

Flowers From Hell

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Friends

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 **Summary for this chapter: Soi Fon and Ken were friends. First-name-term friends. They knew each other better than the backs of their own hands. Soi Fon wanted an answer to a question that she would receive from no one else. Because she trusted Ken.**

 **So I had this crazy idea that Shaolin and Ken would get along really well together. And, well, this happened.**

 **Sorry if I refer to characters with a name you don't agree with. I love Soi Fon's name, but I like her given name of Shaolin Fon as well. So, I call her Shaolin. And Ken is Kaneki's given name. Everyone in the series refers to him as Kaneki, for some reason, which is his surname. Some people get that confused. Yeah.**

 **Uh... Oh! Implied Soi FonxYoruichi and KanekixHide! No like, u probs shouldn't be here :)**

 **Shit, just realized I made a mistake on the pilot chapter. The bankai release phrase is "Bankai. Unravel, Mukade Hiirokari."**

 **Lol "unravel" geddit? Yes? No? Okay, fine, leave me hanging.**

* * *

"Soi Fon?" Called Ken, venturing further cautiously into the moonlit garden. "Soi Fon, are you there?"

"I am right here, Ken," called a female voice from somewhere above Ken's pure white head. "And if you intend to find a spar, I suggest you look elsewhere. I am not in the mood."

Ken chuckled, stepping aside to allow the young Secret Tactics Captain to land in the grass he'd previously been standing in, assuming correctly that she had had an unpleasant run-in with Captain Zaraki.

"What are you here for, Ken?" Asked Soi Fon, settling in the grass with her legs twisted into an elaborate pretzel shape. Ken, accepting the unsaid invitation, sat as well.

"Just to talk." Glimpsing Soi Fon's scandalized expression, Ken grinned. "Yes?"

"I am a captain, Ken," she said slowly. "And you are a lieutenant. Do you ever work?"

"The task usually falls to our Third Seat," replied Ken nonchalantly, referring to Hinamori Momo, who had been demoted while she recovered. As soon as she had recovered enough to speak of Aizen with hate, she was offered a higher position in other divisions, but Momo had stated firmly that she wished to stay in the Fifth Division.

A piece of Aizen to hang on to.

Ken's mood soured considerably.

Noticing his reiatsu shift, Soi Fon asked, the sharp edge of her voice softening, "Ken? What is the matter?"

Soi Fon still remembered the first time Kaneki Ken had been introduced to the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. Staring at the quiet white-haired boy with manners that rivaled Captain Kuchiki yet lacked the pride to match, Soi Fon yet again had the feeling she'd had seeing Yoruichi-sama for the first time, seeing a god in the flesh.

She was witnessing evolution.

Captain Kurosaki... He was different. Though she respected him now, she had thought him an upstart, hotheaded, not knowing his proper place. He had even obtained his formidable powers (at the time) illegally.

Kaneki Ken had been a considerably reiryoku-high human and thus obtained his powers through constant exposure. He got his powers through hard work.

Or that's what Soi Fon believed until she saw him, standing in the garden, with four scarlet, scaled tentacles waving from the small of his back.

A half-ghoul. That was Ken's true identity.

But strangely, Soi Fon wasn't afraid of this new threat. Especially not when he was well and firmly tied to Soul Society by loyalty to those who saved his past life.

"Nothing, I just... Thought of the traitor." Ken knew Soi Fon well enough to address Aizen as such. As expected, the young woman's face darkened.

"He had no right to destroy everything we'd known like that," she growled, her reiatsu swirling around her, lifting her hair and braids. Only when Ken, who hadn't raised his own formidable reiatsu in retaliation, winced, did Soi Fon rein in her power.

"I... Apologize," muttered Soi Fon, glancing off at Ōmaeda, who had apparently come running after sensing the flare in reiatsu. At her jerk of the head, Ōmaeda slunk off rather sullenly.

"I expected more self-control, Captain Soi Fon," teased Ken, leaning forward and bumping shoulders with her. Predictably, Soi Fon scowled and punched the offending body part, and Ken pouted, backing off, rubbing his shoulder.

"Really, though," said Ken, turning his head to gaze at the starry night sky. "When will the mark he left on Soul Society dissipate?"

Soi Fon's eyes grew sad. Ken joined the Shinōreijutsuin Academy (more commonly known as the Shin'ō Academy) as the Winter War was conceived, and as he had immediately achieved shikai, he was pushed to the front ranks quickly. And from there, he saw hell again.

"I do not know," she whispered. She laid back on the grass, and Ken did the same, allowing her to use his arm as a pillow.

When Soi Fon and Ken had stricken up a fruitful friendship, at first, the Shinigami of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads were skeptical. When one particularly nosy sixth seat from the Twelfth Division glimpsed Soi Fon walking into a courteous Ken's personal quarters, word spread like wildfire and soon five different mischievous captains were poised at the door, peeking in.

However, Soi Fon and Ken just settled in the middle of the room and talked. And talked. And talked. Eventually the two ended up bringing out pillows and blankets, as it seemed Soi Fon wasn't really about to leave and Ken wasn't really about to let her go. At about this point all the captains had left out of boredom, and it was made much clearer to Yamamoto that he wouldn't have to talk to the two about a relationship between a superior and subordinate when Ken walked into the Seireitei with a young man who looked around his age or older, and there was a light in his cold dark eyes that hadn't been there before.

"All I know is that for now, we can pursue that which we weren't able to before." Ken's eyes flew sideways to meet hers, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? Has Soi Fon finally won the heart of her lady love?" At this, Soi Fon jabbed the sheath of her zanpaku-tô into his ribcage with a vicious blush.

"There is nothing between me and Yoruichi-sama!" She hissed furiously, as Ken yelped and shot up, giving a high-pitched squeak from the sudden change in position. Glimpsing Soi Fon's murderous expression, Ken subsided into helpless laughter, and the assassin's ferocious visage multiplied in homicidal intent.

Giggling weakly, Ken wiped away his tears and laid back down with a sigh. There was a comfortable silence, then Soi Fon said, with uncharacteristic hesitation, "What is it like... To love someone of the same sex?"

Ken paused, then got the feeling he knew what she was talking about. He opened his mouth, closed it, then began reluctantly, falling into the noble tongue as he did around the more respectable captains, "I will not lie, Shaolin. It is hard. I cannot bring myself to tell you that it will be easy when there will be rumors, and from those of a crueler disposition, jeers. Hide..." His voice grew slightly warmer. "I do not know—I do not understand how he just takes it all in stride. He... He never underestimates how low humanity can fall. And I feel that Yoruichi-san is the same."

Soi Fon nodded slightly. This she knew, though not in full. She remembered the time Ken had completely fallen apart, and it had taken Nagachika and a strange phrase she did not understand to calm him.

 _"We're home, Ken."_

She wondered briefly if Yoruichi-sama was the same type of person as Nagachika, then tuned back in to Ken's low voice.

"No matter what they say... Love is love, Shaolin." Ken's eyes dropped to the ground, and his hands began to shake slightly. "I know that you, as a Secret Tactics Captain, believe that all must be balanced. An eye for an eye, is it not? You believe that for every action there must be an equal force." Soi Fon pursed her lips. There was a reason she had been so intrigued in learning hanki sōsai. Equal and opposite force of return.

"But, Shaolin, a circle of revenge can only go on so long. Sometimes, that vicious cycle only ends when one of the offenders is killed. That is not righteousness, Shaolin." The pale fingers with black nails curled into the grass.

"You must endure it."


	3. Instead

Flowers From Hell

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Instead

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: He loved them. He loved them with everything he had. But he had drawn a line when he first considered them his. They weren't allowed to make him their pretty little toy soldier.**

 **Welcome to the new first chapter of Flowers From Hell! I'm Melancholy Chords—Mel, if you prefer—and I am this story's author. This is the new first chapter! What d'you guys think?**

 **Happy Holidays, guys! (Have a nice winter break to anyone in the same boat as me!)**

 **I do not own Bleach, Tokyo Ghoul, or the contents thereof. I own only this fanmade story and its storyline, and this is not made for profit.**

* * *

The day after the hero of the Winter War buried Ginjô was a blizzard day. The temperature took a dive for fifteen below and this, in combination with the howling winds and violent snowfall, contributed to the schools taking a day off.

Ichigo couldn't stand the stuffy warmth of his house, nor the restless itching inside as his too-powerful soul clawed at its boundaries, his body. He took a coat, turned the collar up, and counted on his reiatsu to keep him toasty as he stepped outside into the blizzard.

Picking his way through the snowdrifts and peering into the slanting white hail, Ichigo sighed. It wasn't the easiest task. He'd taken his mother's favorite coat, an old, weather-beaten thing made of leather lined with fur that hung down to his knees, and though it was considered "womanly" by Keigo, it was warm, and comfortable, and smelled of Yuzu's cooking and Karin's soccer ball and his father's cologne and, yes, his mother's sweet scent that clung stubbornly to the deepest folds of the coat and never let go.

He took another deep breath, then let it out.

After the Winter War, it had been particularly hard. They were all veterans in soul, but their bodies were still physically high-school teenagers, preoccupied with drinking and dating and grades that would ensure a good future. Chad moved like an old man, tired of life and its endless empty promises. Orihime would wake from slumber that was no longer pleasant, recalling white sands and a heart-black hand that turned to ash. Uryû would act irrationally, picking fights or getting into the occasional scuffle, all in an attempt to gather his thoughts and concentrate on the present and not the past full of the screams of Hell and a man who tortured his kind to death.

And Ichigo...

He tried to remember.

All his memories of the past seemed to slip through his fingers no matter how desperately he clenched his hand into a fist, trying to remember the wild wind of reiatsu on his shoulders like wings, the reassuring weight of a six-foot-blade affixed to his back, the horns of a monster on his head, reminding him, "always".

It wasn't like that. He wasn't ever trying to forget. But perhaps it would have been better for him to forget. The triviality of everyday life no longer appealed to him. The normal life he once would have bargained anything for was colorless, gray. He would have given anything for the splash of black and white and the swallowtail butterfly on his world again.

He took another breath, and another, adjusting his scarf over his nose and mouth with long deft fingers, uncomfortable with the notion of being recognized even through the storm. One could never be too careful.

An instant later, there was another breath. It certainly wasn't his.

Ichigo whirled, one hand already at the Substitute Soul Reaper badge always tucked away somewhere on his person. He'd allowed Yuzu to tie the thick ribbons of the badge and loop it through a thin wire that doubled as a garrote that he wore as a necklace most of the time, and it conveniently always hung directly over his heart, where he needed only a shove to fly out of his body.

"Hold your fire, young'un," came a voice, subtly tinged with jaded amusement, and Ichigo froze, his hand an inch above the badge. That _voice_. He recognized it, and the blazing fire in his soul grew musty, as though the very sound of the voice had dampened it.

Yamamoto Genryûsai Shigekuni tapped his cane on the sleet-filled street and said calmly, "Let us walk, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo slumped, his initial alarm wearing off, and when the Captain-Commander set off at a remarkably brisk pace for his age, Ichigo shook off the layer of snow that had caked over on his hood and half of his face and moved to follow.

They had been casually strolling for about a minute in silence when Yamamoto suddenly said, "You've gotten better at being a warrior, young'un," and _oh, hell no, was that an edge of approval in his tone?_ "Your reiatsu is turbulent but on guard—you are wary, and ready for attack, despite the fact that someone you are familiar with is nearby... or is it perhaps because the person you are in the company of is familiar that you are cautious?"

Ichigo jerked violently, memories of distrustful stares, his friends, his family, his everything looking at him, unbelieving, tearing his heart out with their lack of faith in him, the first time that his treasures did not treasure him back, and his mind sharpened by the needle-pricks of aching loyalty to a fault, he hissed poisonously, "You don't get to revel in me becoming a murderer, _Captain-Commander."_

Instead of reprimanding him for the acrid use of title, Yamamoto's eyes grew softer. It wasn't gentle enough to be fondness, but Ichigo felt himself uncoil nonetheless, feel the icy chill of regret that followed scalding blindness and boiling blood.

He didn't bother to apologize. Yamamoto didn't seem to expect him to.

"...I am here because certain circumstances have arisen, young'un." Yamamoto shot Ichigo a look through shuttered eyes, his tone even. "The Thirteen Court Guards' decision is unanimous for the first time in a century." He met Ichigo's gaze head on.

Sudden, inexplicable dread coiled in the pit of Ichigo's stomach at the way Yamamoto phrased that, and he could feel his reiatsu beginning to stir in response.

"We want you to step in as the captain of the Fifth Division."

That wasn't Yamamoto's voice—it was high and clear and full of conviction, the voice of the soldier that walked into his room through his wall. Kuchiki Rukia's voice.

Even as he turned, he felt a spike of betrayal in his heart, which was stupid, because she wasn't betraying him, she was offering him a chance—but even then, he knew the truth. It was near blackmail, what they were doing. They should have been fully aware that, with his selfless nature, he would have no other option than to give in and be their follow-up Aizen.

They were cruel.

Rukia saw the expression on his face and her eyebrows drew upward, and her eyes grew glassy. "Oh, Ichigo, don't look like that," she begged, reaching up to brush the wet snow from his hood. "You're powerful enough to do this, and the division will listen to you. _We_ will listen to you. You are kind enough for this, even if you do not believe that yourself."

"That's exactly why," he whispered, and his lashes threw off snowflakes as he blinked rather rapidly, not to prevent tears but to close off the rest of the world, which was spinning alarmingly, and tidy his completely scattered thoughts. "You... you..."

His voice broke, but it didn't really matter; he hadn't known what he had been about to say, and he didn't think it was what he was what he really wanted to say.

He'd thought they would leave him alone, abandon him to his fresh, newfound peace after the Ginjô incident. He thought he would be allowed to grieve, that he would at least be permitted a grace period while he steeled his nerves and promised himself "never again". Part of him, though, had feared, silently, irrationally, that Soul Society would never return, would never again find him useful, and that he would be left like that forever, suspended in nowhere and everywhere.

He loved them. He loved them with everything he had. But he had drawn a line when he first considered them his. They weren't allowed to make him their pretty little toy soldier.

They were his, but he wasn't theirs. He wouldn't let them make him theirs.

He had to let himself be selfish sometime, or he'd destroy himself.

Rukia balanced on her toes to look him full in the face, her violet eyes wide and full of quiet empathy. "They made me a lieutenant as soon as you were gone," she said quietly, her eyes flitting nervously towards Yamamoto, who looked perfectly content to remain stationary for all eternity—and, subsequently, appeared to have become a snowman. "They didn't give me the time I needed to grieve you, or the emptiness you left behind. They didn't give us a moment to mend—but in the end, it was for the better. If they had given me that time... I think I might have stayed there forever, grieving you until I dropped dead. They swept me up before I was ice, and they were all the kinder for it."

She broke off and started forward in alarm when Ichigo swayed, but he shook her slender arm off and said, his voice tremulous, "I... can we... can this wait? Can I..."

Rukia spoke instantly before Yamamoto even opened one eye. "Of course. Take your time, Ichigo. I understand that this is... awfully sudden."

Ichigo tottered the rest of the way back home on legs weaker than a freshly-deceased spirit's, and locked himself in his room, where he threw a mighty tantrum, screaming and cursing and throwing objects in a violent fit of temper like he hadn't done since he lost his powers. His family was banging on the door—with Isshin actually threatening to kick it down, his voice high-pitched with panic—but Ichigo couldn't hear them over the ringing in his ears and the whispers of the dead staining his soul. _How many? How many? And why?_

He ended up curling up in the middle of the room floor with a textbook serving as a pillow, still swaddled in his mother's old coat. Drinking in the sweet scent of jasmine and vanilla, he drifted somewhere on the fringes of a dream world and reality.

He awoke tucked into his bed, memories of tender looks and sad sighs and gentle movements pressing him onto his mattress, coal-black eyes and caramel-colored hair and uneven stubble.

It didn't calm him, but it comforted him. His mind cleared, and he could think again.

* * *

He couldn't tell his family. For all that they knew about the soul reaper business and his father actually an ex-captain, he couldn't drop something so heavy onto their shoulders and expect them to bear it.

He would never forgive himself if he became the reason for Yuzu's delicate shoulders hunching down and braced, Karin's fierce scowl that defended her fragile soul, his father's lined face growing dark and pinched and sunken as he prayed for the continuing safety of his eldest.

He couldn't tell Orihime, or even Chad. The needle-pricks that he felt when they were under Tsukishima's spell still nettled him whenever he locked eyes with them, and it hurt, so he couldn't bear to force the load onto them, either.

So there was one person left.

That night, Ichigo threw about twelve rocks in a row before Uryû's glossy black head popped out of his window with an annoyed whisper of "What _is_ it, Kurosaki?"

* * *

Uryû's eyes were full of the same quiet empathy as Rukia's. His advice was firm, because he knew Ichigo, deep down, had already made up his mind, always choosing the path harsher on himself. Uryû knew better than to try and convince him otherwise, which would just make the ordeal hurt even more. So, he supported Ichigo, and gently guided him towards what his heart had already decided on.

His work was already done for him when Ichigo arrived at his window with questions and answers.

* * *

Ichigo went missing for three days. Karakura went into a frenzy to find him, his family hysterical and his friends beside themselves.

Urahara Kisuke was bound by oath not to breathe a single word of Ichigo's location, so he suffered silently with the rest.

Ichigo returned with the sunrise on the fourth day, his shihakushô lined impressively by a billowing white haori.

* * *

Ichigo still hasn't forgiven them.

Holding grudges is easier than he thought it was.

* * *

He didn't get a lieutenant—ex-lieutenant Hinamori was held back from the position voluntarily, apparently untrustworthy in a seat of such power, and was in the hospital, her mind still wrecked from Aizen's manipulations, so she was a ghost seat at that point.

Then a tall thin Third Seat came to him, white-haired and silent, like the screaming winds of that sleet-road day when Ichigo was offered even more power, the silver lining on his haori.

Kaneki Ken clicked his heels together sharply and reported for duty.


	4. White

Flowers From Hell

* * *

White

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Hiirokari opened her eyes. It was a wide red world with a single wooden chair and millions of flowers. But even with her fractured vision, Hiirokari could easily see that this world had once been white.**

 **I think Hiirokari deserves a say in this drabble collection :3**

 **Don't own Bleach and Tokyo Ghoul.**

* * *

Hiirokari opened her eyes.

She was wearing a scarlet cloak with a short black dress underneath. Her pale arms were adorned with vivid silver swirls, and silver flowers of the same hue were inlaid in her sharp cheeks. Her fingernails, though not painted, were black, and her hair was long and dark. She blinked once. Her eyes, framed with thick dark lashes, were mismatched, two different colors, one black and one white. She couldn't see out of the pale orb.

The word came to her immediately. "Perfect heterochromia iridum," she thought out loud. Her voice echoed in the open nothingness.

Her mismatched eyes roved, taking in everything around her. The ground which her bare feet stood on was earth, but completely obscured by blood red flowers with long arched stamens. She kneeled to pluck one, and sniffed it delicately. Poisonous red beauties, she mused, observing it from all angles. Even the stem was crimson. She twirled it once, and it promptly disintegrated.

"Lovely," she said dryly.

 **"Hello."**

Hiirokari was a bit more levelheaded than her appearance gave her credit for. As such, she froze and turned her head slightly.

A slight young woman with the same build as Hiirokari stood there. Her vivid violet hair was shorter than Hiirokari's ankle-length own, but her skin tone was paler, making her nearly translucent, like a ghost. She wore a white dress with ruffled periwinkle sleeves and a long black shirt underneath. Her most unnerving feature was her eyes, with black sclerae and gleaming scarlet pupils. Thin red lines had shot out from the eyes like veins.

 **"Hello,"** repeated the woman, smiling in a perfectly civil manner.

"...Hello," responded Hiirokari cautiously.

 **"It's a beautiful place, don't you think, zanpaku-tô-san?"** She asked peacefully, raising her arms and spinning. Hiirokari swallowed. So this was an Inner World, and she herself the zanpaku-tô spirit of some Shinigami. But if so, who, then, was this? Inner Worlds were occupied only by zanpaku-tô spirits, inner Hollows, or the owner of the Inner World itself.

 **"I'm Kamishiro Rize, Kaneki-kun's inner ghoul,"** the woman said easily, introducing herself. She stuck out a hand expectantly, and Hiirokari took it and shook once, a bit bewildered. A ghoul?

"Oh, yes..." She murmured, suddenly understanding. "You are a ghoul, and have been carried into... My wielder's Inner World."

 **"Ding ding ding! Correct!"** Beamed Rize. **"I think you'll meet him soon. He's always been intuitive."**

As if on cue, there was a bright flash, and a young man appeared, sitting in the chair, slight and lean, well built but with an undeniable youth to his sharply angled face. His eyes were icy, but something melted when he entered the world, as though it was the only place he would relax. His white hair fluttered in the cool breeze, and he tilted his head. "Hello."

 _This is getting wearisome_.  "Hello," she said courteously, though with a touch of impatience. The boy—her wielder—observed her for a moment, then said, "You are my zanpaku-tô's spirit."

Something similar to relief surged within her. "Yes. So you have seen and understood."

 **"He's not shallow in the slightest,"** cooed Rize, lunging and attempting to pinch the boy's hollow cheek. The latter dodged the small hand and Rize went flying off into the distance. Hiirokari couldn't help a sweatdrop. As Rize cried in the distance, **"Why does this happen every time?"** , the boy called after her, "It's because you never learn, Rize-san!"

Hiirokari shifted uncomfortably, then noticed something. Directly beneath the chair that the boy was sitting upon, nearly obscured by the black of his shihakushô, was a single white blossom, the same shade as his snowy hair. Curiosity carried her forward, and she knelt down before it as the boy stood to observe his handiwork.

"White," she murmured, her pale fingers sliding easily over the softly-colored flower. "The only one."

"I didn't know there was one left."

Hiirokari's sharp gaze went to the boy, who was staring at the flower. "I-I didn't know."

Rize had returned, and upon seeing the white flower, her kakugan eyes flitted, strangely, to the boy's hair. **"Kaneki-kun... It's the only one left. I didn't know either."**

"The last one," whispered the boy. Something teetered in his expression for a moment, just a moment, and in that moment, another boy, the same build, the same stature, appeared, with dark hair and an eyepatch over his left eye. Then the boy disappeared.

 **"Oh well,"** sighed Rize, sitting in front of the chair and white flower. **"That's that."**

"Rize..." Hiirokari settled down and glanced around. "Tell me something."

 **"Shoot."**

"This world... It used to be white?"

It was more a need for confirmation than a question, but Rize responded regardless. **"Yes."**

"Then... What happened?" Hiirokari raised her silver-marked arms, indicating the red open space. "Why are we trapped in this red Hell?"

 **"It's a long, long story that starts on a well-lit Tokyo night, with the multicolored glints reflected in a pool of _delicious_ blood..."**

"Er, Rize."

 **"And this sad, sad story ends with the loss of Kaneki-kun's innocence, of his resolve to never hurt anyone."**

Hiirokari swallowed. It didn't explain anything, but something in Rize's voice was shattered, and even she could feel the gravity of the sentence.

Years later, nine hundred and fifty-two to be exact, as she stood beside her Shinigami in a pool of still-warm blood, Hiirokari thought she knew the reason behind the flowers from Hell.

* * *

 **And roll credits!**

 **no but srsly. I'm sry that it took so long and that it's so short. I'm sick and I** **have a killer migraine at two in the morning. D:**

 **Update the following night: Still sick and still got that killer migraine, but feeling better :3 Apparently I didn't post the chapter this morning. (Dark is stupid)**


	5. Cherry Pie

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Cherry Pie

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Yachiru still remembers the day that she met and befriended Kenny-chan. All she did was follow the scent of cherry pie.**

 **My mom made some apple pie for me last night, so I thought "Hell, Imma write somethin' fluffy."**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

There was the smell of freshly baked goods in the air.

Mouth watering, Kusajishi Yachiru wandered down the halls of the empty Fifth Division (most of the officers and Ichigo were out on a field mission trying to get Grimmjow out of the Rukongai's brawling district before he killed someone), following the pleasant smell.

When she reached the Mess Hall, she stopped, surprised.

Lieutenant Kaneki Ken was standing there, hands clad in patterned oven mitts, holding a cherry pie. He looked sheepish for a moment, then held it up with an inquiring look.

Yachiru looked at him, then shrugged. Then she sat down beside him, and took a slice.

Maybe Fifth Division wasn't so bad.


	6. Wary

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Wary

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Jūshirō didn't really do wariness. But when he first met Kaneki Ken, a surge of energy in his veins screamed for him to tread cautiously. He didn't understand the message until he saw Ken's kakuja side.  
**

 **I dunno. I just like establishing captains' and lieutenants' relationships with him.**

 **I thought at first that Ukitake would like Ken, but he likes everybody. And besides, I made Shaolin like him, for crying out loud. I even think Byakuya will like him. Let's stack up the odds against him for once.**

 **Sorry if the ShunsuixJūshirō is too exaggerated. I wanted it smoother and more subtle, so I made it more like really close friends, but I still ship 'em... How can I not?! Shunsui may be a womanizer but damn who can pass on that face?! -points to the Jūshirō poster on my wall-**

 **(I have Ichigo, and Toshiro posters, too.)**

 **-sigh- Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Jūshirō sees the quiet boy with white hair and shihakushô walk in and he tenses. His lieutenant, Kuchiki Rukia, who stands beside him, notices him stiffening and shoots him a look that clearly says _What is the matter?_ but Jūshirō, for once in his life, ignores it.

Every instinct in his eons-old body screams for him to _stay away_.

For all it's worth, Shunsui likes the boy immediately despite his utter silence, but that's a moot point because Shunsui likes everybody anyway.

Toshiro looks bored, but his blue-green eyes of ice are warm, sympathetic, and for a moment Jūshirō wonders how in the world the boy managed to attract Toshiro's attention.

Soi Fon smiles, a sweet, gentle, uncharacteristic one as she approaches the boy to congratulate his new status as an official lieutenant (he had been Third Seat for a few months, just working lieutenant's duties as well because of the lack of takers), and Jūshirō sees several captains' and lieutenants' jaws drop, and her own lieutenant, Ōmaeda, throws up his hands, completely distraught, wailing "What did I do to deserve this?!"

Through all the chaos, Jūshirō notices that the boy remains completely mute, and is about to ask if he is so to Shunsui standing beside him when Ichigo throws his arm around the boy's shoulders and says, "C'mon, Ken, I owe you a drink!"

"Not a good idea," rebuffs the boy (now identifiable as Ken) instantly. "I'm underage, Ichigo."

Jūshirō forces himself to be sociable and walks over to the sizable crowd with a cheerful "There's a great bar three blocks down the street from the Seventh Division Barracks!" He smiles, despite the gooseflesh crawling over his skin. "Shunsui and I could show you."

Ken's face colors slightly and he ducks his head, and his voice is so soft Jūshirō has to strain to hear his "Of course, Captain Ukitake." Ichigo whoops, picks up a shrieking Rukia by the waist and spins her for a moment, then drops her unceremoniously and drags Ken along, and Jūshirō barely catches Ichigo's mouthed "Thank you."

Two hours later, Izuru is lying on the floor, drooling, Hisagi is singing loudly and off-key, Rangiku is screeching about Gin, and Ichigo is trying to get Ken drunk, while Ken—who doesn't seem to have a volume level above "indoor voice"—says, "Ichigo—Captain—I'm over-I mean underage—Damn it Ichigo!"

Jūshirō swallows. He seems so normal, so unlike everyone else in his soft-spokenness, and that makes him somehow approachable, likable, and yet...

Shunsui's hand claps his shoulder, and he says under his breath, "Hey, Jūshirō, let's talk."

Outside, in the crisp autumn air with sharp edges of cinnamon that only the Seireitei's fall has, Shunsui sits on the roof of the bar and he says, "What's up with you, Juu? He seems like a nice kid."

Jūshirō presses his lips together. Of course Shunsui noticed how he was coiled up, like a snake ready to lash out at the first given slight. "It's just... Instinct, Shun. He walked in and—"

"—The room went cold," says Shunsui immediately, "like it does when Toshiro walks in. I know. I felt it too."

Jūshirō's teeth snags his lip. Of course his best friend noticed. And yet he still acted warmly towards the silent newcomer. Did that make him someone awful?

"Juu—" Jūshirō looks away, ashamed and in half a mind to run away despite knowing that will most certainly make his cough act up. "Hey, Juu. Look at me. It's natural. You and I, we've been here, what, centuries? We're creatures of instinct more than anything. It's perfectly natural you feel the need to avoid him."

Jūshirō sighs. "Isn't that such an ugly word, Shun? 'Avoid'? Makes me feel like I'm making him a pariah."

Shunsui just laughs his deep-throated guffaw, slapping his thigh and taking a swig from his gourd. "Spoken like Yumichika! Lighten up, Juu! Just sit back and enjoy the show! Besides, your laugh makes the room brighter."

Jūshirō hopes that Rangiku stumbling out of the bar and yelling "YOUKNOWGINILOVEDYOUBUTYOUJUSTHADTOBEANASS" is enough to distract Shunsui's attention as he flushes scarlet.

* * *

This is a losing battle.

He can tell as soon as the claw of one of the three or four adjuchas skims his side. Though it's shallow, it is near his chest, near his lung, and the force behind the blow caused him to let some of his controlled reiatsu slip through his metaphorical fingers, and he can taste the blood at the back of his throat and he can just feel himself giving way—

Shunsui's there, between one gasp and the next, grabbing him by the opposite shoulder and the haori fluttering over his hip, his low voice raised at least an octave in alarm. "Hold it, Juu. Ichigo's set up a little camp of sorts—let's get you there."

The next few moments, rendered blurry because of Shunsui's hasty Flash-Step, are nothing but white space in Jūshirō's hazy memory, but the next thing he knows is Shunsui sitting him down and plopping down beside him himself, rubbing Jūshirō's back with a soothing "Shh... Easy. Easy there. Don't start up here, we can't do anything and Isane isn't here either."

Ichigo is peering over the rock that serves as a makeshift roof of sorts, ever vigilant. His earth-brown eyes, amber as they catch the light of the silver moon, narrow. "They've stopped attacking—they're regrouping. I think we're giving each other time to breathe."

Rukia snarls. "This isn't a fair fight. Three captains and two lieutenants against several hundred Hollows, Gillians, and some four adjuchas? We might stand a chance if there weren't so many."

The listed three captains and two lieutenants were dispatched earlier in the day to put down a small Hollow rebellion in Hueco Mundo. The "small" turned to "noticeable," "noticeable" turned to "large," "large" turned to "overwhelming," and here they are, marooned in the middle of nowhere, fighting off a small revolution that _would_ be a simple nuisance if it weren't for the some-hundred Menos Grande that joined the fight not long after it had begun.

Something in Ichigo's expression clears at that, and he abruptly turns to his lieutenant. "Ken. I even Hollowfied, and there's nothing. I think we need your mask."

Jūshirō's spotty vision and buzzing head has cleared enough for him to process what Ichigo is saying, and he turns his head ever so slightly, locking gazes with Shunsui. They've been friends—and ever-so-subtle lovers—for a good several millennia. They could probably spend entire years without speaking a word to each other yet still operating in perfect harmony. Jūshirō gestures minutely with his head towards the two, and Shunsui nods slowly, and they look back up.

Ken's turned at least fifteen shades paler than his natural skin tone, making him whiter than his hair, and he seems to have lost the ability to speak in his fear. He stares at Ichigo with the wide petrified eyes of a wild, skittish cornered animal, and he shakes his head so fast and in such a jerky manner that he looks like a puppet as he does it.

Ichigo's face hardly falters at Ken's vehement refusal, though his eyes, filled with icy rigidity, melt somewhat, which suddenly transforms him; the sleek, nearly nonexistent curve to his cheeks and harsh angles of his face have softened into something a bit more accepting than the ever-present scowl.

"Ken," he says, and his voice is middling, a bit higher than his usual casual, raw tone. "Please. We can't afford to be wiped out now."

Ken's expression is bordering on complete and abject terror and he legitimately seems to be considering fainting. His mist eyes—the color that little Yachiru dubbed them so long ago when it quickly became clear there was no way to describe the hue—are flickering between his own shaking hands and his captain's calm, collected face. His teeth break the flesh of his lip, and he stands there, blood dribbling down his chin in a thin rivulet, and then, in an almost mechanical action, he licks his lips, and his eyes close when he tastes the blood, in resignation or surrender Jūshirō can't tell.

"All right," says Ichigo, and it is a sigh of relief, a seeping of tension. "All right."

Two minutes later, Jūshirō learns that his caution was well-placed.

Ken is a half-ghoul, humanoid carnivorous creatures that prey on humans and crave their flesh day and night. They are unable to consume actual human food with the exception of coffee, and there are unique types of ghouls. Though Ichigo only touches on the most superficial of details, Jūshirō can tell that one of the branches that Ichigo went into heavy scientific matters, the kakuja branch, is a bad spot for Ken, who stiffens like a metal rod at the mere mention of the term and becomes more and more tightly coiled, like a spring, until Ichigo pauses to take a breath and so does Ken.

Ichigo glances at his lieutenant—who is _still_ a couple shades too pale for comfort—and lowers his voice. "It's been around five minutes. The Hollows will attack us any second now. Does anything need to be clarified?"

Rukia raises her hand. "A mask?"

Her question is vague in the extreme, but Ichigo's known her longer than everybody present and he responds immediately, "Ken?"

Ken says, his voice just barely in the decibel range of _whisper_ , "Ghouls have masks so that their human identity isn't revealed. My mask carried over in my afterlife and represents my ghoul powers like Captain Kurosaki's Hollow mask represents his Hollow powers." His tone is flat, removed, and small, and Jūshirō inexplicably gets the feeling Ken hates his ghoul powers.

Ichigo nods, and then the world explodes.

It's only a second later but it feel jagged and unreal, and Shunsui's staggering to his feet, and Rukia's struggling under a slab of rock, and Ichigo rises and he's forming the beginnings of a yell to his lips when a glob of acid hits him in the back.

"Ichigo!" Cries Rukia, limping over to him, having cut the stone over her leg with Sode no Shirayuki. Jūshirō's eyes unfocus for a moment, leaving the colors around him mashed together, but Shunsui holds him up and as soon as his eyes drift back, he scrambles to Ichigo, who is groaning.

Another explosion rocks their shattered refuge, and Shunsui, learning from experience, peers over the edge for just a moment before retreating quickly. "They're closing in—"

Scarlet dashes past him.

Ken is leaping off of Hollows, killing those under his feet, and moving so fast he is a scarlet streak. But Jūshirō is not captain of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads for nothing, and his eyes can follow Ken, who is garbed in all black but the customary shihakushô is torn at the small of his back, and Jūshirō's eyes widen.

 _Holy... Holy shit._

There are four crimson tentacles, glowing like embers, protruding from Ken's back, slashing and ripping and tearing from the Hollows unfortunate enough to be in his way. The creatures in his path die quickly, and soon enough, Ken's eradicated nearly half the forces that he had just been struggling against. He turns back to call to them, and Jūshirō gasps. His right eye's sclera is inky black, and his pupil is glowing scarlet just like his tentacles, and tiny red threads creep from it onto the skin around his eye.

"Captain Ukitake, you may have to release Shikai—"

He chokes, and Jūshirō _knows_ something awful's about to happen, something he will never erase from his memory, that will be forever branded there, there's a bone-deep chill that runs through him as the gruesome-looking black leather mask on Ken's face morphs, and Ichigo seems to feel it, too, and he raises his head slightly, his face contorted, ignores the blood dribbling down his chin, gasps, "No—"

Centipedes seem to burst from Ken's back.

Ken's face is nearly obscured by the red-black glowing mask that Jūshirō, in a moment of complete hysteria, can't help but relate to a witch, and his previously impassive, and some might even say sweet, face is clouded with madness. The smile stretched across his lips is terrifying, because mouths are _not_ supposed to carve that far into cheekbones, and his shihakushô has been replaced by a fitted leather suit that is strategically open at the small of his back to reveal two long centipede-patterned Rinkaku and four normal Rinkaku, though kinked twice and too long and curved to be "normal Rinkaku".

 **"Wh-wh-wh-what..."** Breathes Ken, and it takes Jūshirō several moments to place that emotional, shuddering voice as Ken's.

Ken's smile stretches further, turning into a leer, and he rasps, **"Wh-what-what's... Wha-what's one th-thousand... Mi-mi-minus... Seven...?"**

He disappears, too fast for Jūshirō's eyes to follow, and Shunsui's stricken eyes meet his.

"Ken's..."

Jūshirō glances down at Ichigo, and winces; the wound on his back is all twisted melted flesh, and looks very painful. Ichigo manages, "Ken's an incomplete kakuja... We have to stop him... He doesn't know what he's doing..."

"He's going to hurt himself," says Rukia, her violet eyes riveted onto Ken as he gruesomely decapitates a Hollow but saves its mask for last, the way the eyes are drawn to an accident and can't turn away for morbid fascination.

"He's winning," says Shunsui, almost in awe, and Jūshirō looks back, his mouth agape as he takes in the scene of barely any Hollows left, despite Ken having killed them in the most bloody way possible.

Ken's mouth is now bared into a snarl, and he hisses as he raises his head to finish off the last one—and gigantic blunt teeth clamp down upon him.

The kakuja, though completely incoherent, shrieks, his voice watery and doubled like Ichigo's in Hollowfication, and his one white, unknowing eye clenches shut as he screeches again, primal, trying to convey his fear and the pain of having some one hundred-pounds of sturdy square bone flattening him.

Rukia inhales sharply, her eyes widening in fear, in horror of the inevitable, and Ichigo's head snaps up, and he says, his voice strained, "What did he do—what happened—" and he's practically hyperventilating, and both Jūshirō and Shunsui know that neither of them will be able to make it in time, and there is a single moment in which everyone takes a breath, and brace themselves for the many forms of physical and mental agony sure to come.

 _"No!"_

Hiirokari, long and arced and graceful, a blood-red hilt and curved silver blade, raises by itself, by its own power, and kills the Gillian, though not before its huge jaw nearly crushes the lieutenant. Ken falls, a limp rag doll without the power to curb the descent himself, but a small, lithe young woman, long dark hair and black and white eyes, flickers into being, catches her wielder before he truly does die.

Ichigo catches his breath, presses his face into the white sand, and whispers, "Hiirokari. Thank you, thank you..."

Hiirokari's mismatches eyes are even and emotionless, just like her master's, even though the subtle tremor of her bottom lip indicates her distress. "I cannot hold my form. Spirits can only manifest by drawing on their wielder's reiryoku. Ken will die if we don't help—"

Hiirokari abruptly disappears, and Ken—battered, bruised, bloody—manages a faint moan.

"Oh, God," says Ichigo, his voice brittle. "Oh, God, that was terrifying."

Jūshirō knows what Ichigo is thinking, hell, knows the way Ichigo thinks in general, and says firmly, "Ichigo. Not. Your. Fault. You couldn't have predicted Ken going and losing control, now, could you?"

"But it _is_ my fault," mutters Ichigo heavily, as Rukia's hands glow green with healing kidō on his back. "I should've known, from the way Ken reacted. He hates himself, hates losing control like that. He likes to see the road when he's driving."

"Interesting way of putting it," says Shunsui lightly, his hands ghosting over Ken, and hearing a voice, hearing a sound, the boy struggles towards it, swimming through the muck back to reality, and he moans again, louder.

"...We should get back," says Jūshirō, a bit mystified at what just happened over the span of the past thirty minutes. His concern for others' wellbeing overpowers him, though, and he opens a Senkaimon efficiently and neatly, nodding to Shunsui, who scoops up Ken, and Ichigo, who is being supported by Rukia (the difference in height between them makes for an amusing sight, but Jūshirō is too wired to feel amused).

He swallows, and steps into the Senkaimon.

 _Soi Fon will kill me._

* * *

It's two days later. Ken wakes up in a sterilized white room with a cluster of pasque flowers in a thin glass vase beside him.

Jūshirō stands there, his face completely serene.

Ken pauses for a moment. "You don't trust me."

Jūshirō knows better than to lie, in the same room with a predator that can smell fear. "Yes."

Ken looks down at the sheets, but is surprised when a thin hand presses an amanatto into his hand. He looks up in time to see the back of a billowing white captain's haori fluttering away.

"I do respect you. And for now, that must be enough."

* * *

 **How about a nice long chapter for you patient readers in exchange for that nice long time I left ya hanging?**

 **This turned out a _little_ different than what I was playing at, but all in all, it looks fairly decent. I'm proud of myself for keeping my muse alive this long!**


	7. Reprieve

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Reprieve

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Ever since that day, when he was snatched from his light, laughter-filled streets by a hand full of surgical tools and cruelty sharper than any Ukaku, he's never had a single moment of reprieve.**

 **Whoo! Short and deep and dark. Just how I like it.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ever since that day, when he was snatched from his light, laughter-filled streets by a hand full of surgical tools and cruelty sharper than any Ukaku, he's never had a single moment of reprieve.

He closes his eyes for just a moment in the office and Jason is creeping along the edges of his vision with his white hockey mask and gold fingers, centipedes wriggling in his grasp as he sneers, "What's a thousand minus seven?"

He dozes for half a second in the Fourth Division after a particularly weary field mission, and Rize is leaning over him, crooning his name, her voice low and husky and a purr of gentle delight, and then her smile cuts into her cheeks and her kakugan activates and blood splatters across her face—his blood, his _human_ blood.

His nightmares frequently consist of those two, the ones that changed him drastically from what he is, but the rarer—and more heartrending—visitor always leaves him in silent agony.

He's standing in his Inner World, in the field of red petals that he so resents, and _he's_ sitting there, in the Anteiku standard issue suit and pants, his eyes dark and soft and both normal. Both human. The corners of his lips turn down, slightly, like he's disappointed, even though he's never disapproved of something a day in his life, and he says, "Do you want to be me again?"

And every time, with his face that's whittled and sharpened ever so subtly but clearly, painfully different, with his ice-cold mist-colored eyes that shoot daggers wherever he glares, his long pale slender fingers with scabbed and scarred knuckles and cracked black fingernails, he is unable to formulate a response, and he explodes into dust just as his answer is on his lips.

 _Please._

Everyone suffers their own nighttime horrors. Ichigo will stumble into the office with eyes that have seen too much and hands that tremble with energy he can—but should not—contain, Soi Fon will call almost childishly for Yoruichi, the one thing she well and truly had in her grasp before her sudden and unwelcome departure, Yachiru will shiver with not a child's nightmares of monsters in the closet or hidden under the bed but of the blood of her victims and the gruesome corpses that want their lives back.

He acknowledges that there are these and more tucked into the lining of shihakushôs and stuffed into the sheaths of zanpaku-tôs, but he knows that all of them cannot compare to those that come one step away from Hell.

There is a lingering bitterness that pricks him each time he sees someone young and innocent or big and foolish, one who eagerly walks into the hunt with notions of glory and triumph; all he wants to do is to crush them, pull all their nails off, guide a centipede into their ears and watch with vicious pleasure while they scream.

 _"This is what you wanted,"_ he would say. _"_ This _is war."_

He reasons to himself that doing such a thing will only bind him tighter in the chains of sin that have settled around him, shaping to his body and squeezing the breath out of him. But there are times, in the first breath of that quiet witching hour when all is still and the monsters come out to play, he wonders, _Is it? Is it, is it, is it?_

 _I am paying the world an overdue debt._

 _It's not equal._

 _They added interest. I gladly service them._

He thinks of his mother, of the warm hand on his cheek that slips through his fingers like sand, of the hamburger that Hide offers him, of the windy city night when colorful lights lit up the pools in the alleyway, and he wonders where he went so wrong.

* * *

Hide leans back onto the spring grass that is too green to be real but real nonetheless and laughs, tapping Ken's hand. "Why're you so serious? Didya cheat on me?"

Ken's head turns so fast there's a whiplash, and he protests vehemently with the faintest blush dusting his cheeks, "Yes—I mean no, I swear I meant no—where'd you get that notion?"

Hide smirks and pulls Ken down next to him with a big show of batting his slightly-too-short lashes. The view isn't entirely what Hide had been playing at—a seductive angle is hard when you're a dude, damn it—but Ken musters one of his fluttery, breathy laughs for him anyway, the ones that are like a summer breeze—fleeting and airy, and you find yourself longing for it when it isn't there anymore.

"Really, though," says Hide, looking up at the sky and taking one of Ken's hands to trace a pattern in the endless blue, "what's on your mind? Sure, you're quiet, but you're not _that_ quiet."

Ken's eyes flicker, and he turns so that his head is resting on Hide's stomach. Even though it's a bit hard to breathe, Hide glances down at Ken's eyes, and Ken says slowly, "Aren't you bitter?"

Any other person would have said, "What?" but Hide isn't any other person, he's fucking _Hide_ , and he responds slowly, thinking his answer through as the words leave his mouth. "Honestly? Kinda. It's not fair, is it? That we have to suffer while the others get off scot-free with little Band-Aids and a kiss from Mommy."

Ken relaxes slightly, and he turns back so that Hide can breathe. He pulls himself up, and the white head immediately uses his lap for a pillow. He would have thrown him off, but Ken pulls his puppy eyes and Hide relents.

"Am I..."

Hide's face crumples, and his eyes go dark and glassy. He presses his hand against Ken's mouth and hisses "No. Not a monster, not ever a monster."

Hide pulls his hand away, and watches with great satisfaction as Ken swallows, hard, then an uncharacteristic smile graces his features.

"Come on," he says, bringing Hide to his feet. "Let's go home."


	8. Thanksgiving

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Thanksgiving

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: "It's not exactly, uh, the norm to kidnap, uh, kidnap turkeys, Yachiru-chan. And, uh, is it supposed to be alive?"**

 **I'm not good at humor, so enjoy :))**

 **Sorry 'bout the long wait, I suddenly fell back in love with Sonic X (JAPANESE IS WAAAAAAAY BETTER THAN ENGLISH DUB) and I was writing, like, three different fics on Shadow before I realized I left ya guys hangin' :/**

* * *

"I don't think this is a good idea, Ichigo."

"It's just a freaking party, Ken. You gotta get out and about sometime. Will you go if I swear I won't let Rangiku-san get you drunk?"

"No. I don't like social events."

"Yeah, no shit."

"..."

"-sigh- Will you try, Ken? Nagachika's gonna be there..."

"...I hate you."

"Hah! I win."

"Fine."

* * *

"Hi, Yachiru-chan."

"Hi Kenny-chan! Icchy-chan told me to help with the cooking, so I went and got the turkey!"

"Uh-huh..."

"And it, you know, didn't wanna be the turkey, so I kidnapped it!"

"You kidnapped... A turkey."

"Why not?"

"It's not exactly, uh, the norm to kidnap, uh, kidnap turkeys, Yachiru-chan. And, uh, is it supposed to be alive?"

"What was that, Kenny-chan?"

"N-n-nothing, Yachiru-chan! Don't pull my hair!"

* * *

"Good evening, Captain-Commander-dono."

"It has been a long time, Lieutenant Kaneki."

"Yes."

"Will you be attending the Thanksgiving dinner tonight?"

"I... Believe so, Captain-Commander-dono."

"Oh? You are hesitant."

"To be perfectly frank, sir, I am slightly wary of Lieutenant Kusajishi's cooking."

* * *

"Ah, Lieutenant Nagachika! What brings you to the... Fourth... Division..."

"Yup."

"Lieutenant Nagachika, what on Earth happened to him?"

"Uh, you weren't at the dinner, were you, Isane-san?"

"No..."

"Yachiru-chan was in charge of the food."

"Oh... Oh dear."

"Yeah, there's probably more coming. In fact, Izuru-san was looking a bit shaky last time I saw him. Oh, oh, here he comes. Is that... Oh crap that's Captain Kuchiki! Shit! I gotta go Isane-san!"

"...Captain Unohanaaaaaa!"

* * *

 **There! A rare helping of humor! I actually got it in time! Yus!**


	9. Phantasm

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Phantasm

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: He** **sighs, accepts that it will be a bad day for both of them.** ** _There's never really an end to a nightmare._**

 **[1] Spanish for sands of white**

 **It's slightly choppy, cuz I got hung up on Yachiru's bit, and I didn't add Ken talking to everyone else, but I think it's semi-adequete, seeing as my muse went for an unwanted vacation.**

 **Oh, this is a companion piece to "Reprieve"!**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

 _Ichigo does not remember the sunflowery fields and caramel-colored laughter._

 _He sees Aizen's gentle, cold smile and honey-sweet promises. He sees an obsidian sky and white sands like scattered stars. He sees a painted sky like the mask on his face of bloodstained bone and long orange hair, Hollows, and_ death _._

 _He's there again, standing in the_ arena de blanca **[1]** _, and this time he does not hesitate, he annihilates Ulquiorra with not a shred of mercy or pity in the gaping hole in his heart. Usually after this he turns, and kills Ishida, who is his best friend and worst enemy, and Inoue, the dreamy little girl who loves him because he is untouchable. But tonight the storyline diverts from its original position. The bone that is his armor crumbles from his face, and he drops to his knees._

 _Inoue, this time, does not run to help him._

 _She points an accusatory finger that cuts like like a zanpaku-tô to his newly-existing heart and screeches, "You killed him!"_

 _He looks at Ishida, but his eyes are dark and glassy and wide open in shock._

 _He's deader than the sands in this inky black sky, and Ichigo's heart stutters to a stop._

 _Rukia steps out from behind a rock, and suddenly it's that first nightmare he'd ever had as a Shinigami, but less cartoony, more realistic, her body twisted and small, and frosted over in places._

 _Half of her face is frozen, and blood is mixed into the crystalline surface._

 _"Why did you not save me?" She whispers, and it's that tone again, the regal tone she used when she walked in through his wall, and it's wrong, it's bad, because she doesn't remember all those times, she cares not for him anymore._

 _He grasps desperately at a response, any response, but before he can form one, his father, tucked into the customary shihakushô and captain's haori that is torn and ravaged and shows off his impressive scars and blood, crawls from the new shadows, groaning, "You should have protected them... Protected_ her _..." He reaches out, his long arm lean and toned just like Ichigo's, but before his son can even think to speak, the hand drops and Ichigo will never know what his father wanted of him, pain or forgiveness._

 _Yuzu and Karin stumble after Isshin, and they are even more painful because he is supposed to keep them safe and shield them from harm, but it is clear Karin made a last stand protecting her sister and Yuzu died because Karin did, and their hair is matted with blood, their faces contorted in agony, and Karin's eyes roll back in her head, drops to the ground, and Yuzu drops after her, cradling her sister's body, wailing, and their eyes catch and Yuzu's eyes burn with uncharacteristic wrathful castigation. "You weren't there to protect us," she hisses, and her voice isn't right, she's sweet and lemon yellow and the sunshine of the morning, not the acrid poison that tantalizes. She dies with a furious snarl carved into her small pretty face._

 _Kurosaki Masaki bows at the waist, clenches Ichigo's shihakushô with a dying woman's longing. "It's all your fault, you know?" She murmurs into the spirit cloth, and Ichigo stops breathing. The one thing he'd always dreaded... That his mother blamed him for her death. She's still in that white shirt and pink pleated shirt and there is scarlet splattered all over her middle and dripping from the corners of her mouth that in life always turned up but are now arched down. "All your fault," she repeats, and her hand falls to the black cold rock that now occupies his mind, and Ichigo turns and screams his agony to the indifferent sky._

* * *

 _Shaolin Fon is battle-hardened, and weary._

 _She is a captain at her young age, once abandoned by the one she was so sure she loved, and kills those that oppose her. She is an assassin, and she is not meant to feel. She is only meant to carry out the orders of others, of superiors._

 _Shaolin sees an orchard of sakura blossoms and a dark hand guiding her blade. She sees violet hair lined by black and a careless smile framed by piercing golden eyes that glow in the night. She sees a turned back and sad lines at the corners of mouths and a hand, her own, stretched out, and a cry._

 _"Don't leave me here alone!"_

 _She turns, and her eyes are cold, hard. "Don't leave?" She repeats contemptuously. "Don't leave? What reason have you given me to stay?"_

 _The words are like bricks, and she staggers, caught off guard. "W-what?"_

 _"I. Said." Her voice is like ice, it's not right, it's not real, Yoruichi-sama does not sound like that, her voice is smooth and warm and playful, like the summer rain brisk and brief and teasing, not this stony woman with the chiselled features of a huntress's face. "What reason have you given me to stay?"_

 _"I-I-I—" she's stuttering, something she's never done except around Yoruichi-sama, but this is a different kind of stuttering, a_ bad _stuttering, the kind she's never done in her life, the kind that says_ I don't know I don't know I don't know.

 _"No answer?" Sneers Yoruichi-sama, her eyes steely like the edge of a zanpaku-tô. "I thought not. Even you cannot provide a worthy excuse."_

 _"Wait!" The word bursts from her lips before she can stop, and she clamps her hands over her mouth and muffles her sob, because that is weakness, but now Yoruichi-sama will turn again, and Shaolin will not be able to give a reason, and Yoruichi-sama will turn again and Shaolin will have only prolonged her torment._

 _True to her thoughts, Yoruichi-sama whirls around, and the smile on her face is eerie, doesn't belong there because it is cruel and frigid. "Yes?" She drawls, and Shaolin_ knows _she is doing it on purpose,_ trying _to cause her more pain, and that is worse than any torture an enemy could cook up._

 _"I-I... Please," she begs, reaching out for just one more joke, just one more smile, just one more word, just one more touch, just one more._

 _"Please," snorts Yoruichi-sama, and snatches her hand out of Shaolin's range, spinning around and walking away. "I expected more of you..."_

 _She tilts her head just enough for Shaolin to see the smile of savage glee on her lips. "Soi Fon."_

 _The light footsteps patter away and Shaolin screams her sorrow to the heavens._

* * *

 _Toshiro is a child._

 _There is no other way of explanation. He is a prodigy, rose to captaincy in record time (broken not even by Kurosaki Ichigo), but reality dictates that he is a child, and that he has seen more than he should._

 _Toshiro sees a cold winter night and a frozen river. He sees a small cookie-cutter face with sweet doe eyes and a pining smile. He sees a sword through her chest and his hand controlling it. He sees a kind face and a kind smile behind glasses and Kyōka Suigetsu._

 _"Aizen," he snarls, hand gripping the hilt of Hyourinmaru._

 _"No," says Aizen easily, and his hair isn't slicked back, his glasses are still there, and no, it's not Aizen, it's Captain Aizen, who gently pointed out the flaws in his swordsmanship, who kindly draped his captain's haori over his sleeping shoulders, who affectionately lit a candle for the squinting eyes and trembling hands._

 _"Captain," he says, because although he is loath to admit it, he loved Captain Aizen just as much as Hinamori did, loved him like a father that he had never known and never had. He froze his heart to contain his rage at the man for turning his back when he most needed him, but on some cognitive level it registered that he would never be able to let it go. Aizen hurt Hinamori, but Captain Aizen was his paternal figure. Toshiro may not have hesitated plunging Hyourinmaru through Aizen's heart, but he later regrets his decision because maybe he could have made Captain Aizen forget the animosity and lead him through like he did Toshiro._

 _"Yes, yes, Toshiro," he says, smiling, and Toshiro steps forward, reaching out, fingers curling into the spirit cloth. "Really you," he breathes. "It's... Really you."_

 _"Yes," says Captain Aizen, his voice low and kind and confirming, and Toshiro, like he never would in reality, leans into the warmth that gives, leans into the heart that opened itself to him, leans into what amounts to his father._

 _"Oh God," he gasps, feeling the tears cutting trails into his cheeks. "Oh God, you—they sealed you away."_

 _"Yes," he nods, and a large warm hand brushes the tears away. "Don't cry, Toshiro. I made it out of that prison."_

 _"Don't you—don't you ever fucking dare do that to me and Hinamori again," he hisses into the spirit cloth, clenching it in his fist, and Captain Aizen smiles slightly._

 _"Of course not, Toshiro. I just have one question." Toshiro looks up, and sonething in Captain Aizen's smile is artifice, but he doesn't care anymore, just wants to follow his heart. "Will you follow me?"_

 _"Yes," he whispers, and he makes the biggest mistake of his life. "Yes."_

 _Because he always feared that his emotions, his inexperience, would ultimately make his world burn._

* * *

 _Yachiru is a child._

 _Not like Toshiro, of course. She is an actual child, that likes pink and candy and wide open skies of soft blue and cotton candy clouds._

 _Yachiru sees a tuft of bell-strung hair and scarred faces. She sees red makeup at the corners of crow's-feet eyes and feathers pinned to eyebrows and hair. She sees bloodied faces and mangled limbs and corpses upon corpses and her stained zanapku-tô._

 _"My life..." Groans an old man that she killed because he was caught in the crossfire of her battle. "I want my life back, damn you..."_

 _Another is a woman with half her face torn off, courtesy of her Hollow mask being torn from her face by Yachiru herself. "What right have you to take my life? I cannot find freedom here... You have only incarcerated me..."_

 _A third, a small child, comes straight towards her and pulls herself upright._

 _Kusajishi Yachiru is staring at her own reflection, whose smile is wide and eerie and ever the killer's._

 _She giggles, and teasingly traces Yachiru's wide eyes with the point of her zanpaku-tô. "You killed them all 'cause they were in your way," she says, smiling brightly, and a chill runs down Yachiru's spine because she's right, they're right, they're all right because she did it, she killed them to rid herself of the immediate nuisance and since when did she ever have the right?_

 _"You don't have the right," she says, echoing Yachiru's horrified thoughts, and her voice is cold, and gentle, all at the same time, and it's terrifying, because she knows she sounds that way too. She tilts her head, and laughs, simultaneously the tinkling of ice cream bells and the shattering of glass._

 _"No right," she repeats, and Yachiru wails her shame to the world._

* * *

Ken glances up as Ichigo enters the room with his face darker than usual. He swallows his greeting, and instead opts for a much less safer "Nightmare?"

As expected, Ichigo shoots him a look that clearly says "not a nightmare, not a weakness", but one quizzical eyebrow from Ken and he crumbles with a muttered, "It was a bad one, this time."

Ken looks back down at the field report he's holding from an overeager rookie, glaring at it, hearing the exhausted note in his captain's voice, feeling momentarily bitter that it is those around him who must suffer from these nighttime horrors, but his logic returns and quells the rage, pointing out calmly that it is consequences for their previous actions. _Nothing that can be done for them_.

He sighs, accepts that it will be a bad day for both of them.

 _There's never really an end to a nightmare._


	10. Piano Black

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Piano Black

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Sometimes the within is piano black / Piano black over cleansing waters**

 **Dont own them**

 **Above lyrics are from Song of Myself by Nightwish**

 **So tired that I cant think straight**

 **Sry its so short**

 **Working on next chap of DWD**

* * *

Kaneki Ken dies in a building fire protecting a child.

Kirishima Touka is outside of the complex, watching in horror as the young man she has grown to adore wraps himself around a small boy and a burning support beam falls on them.

It cracks against his back. His spine is snapped.

The boy is unharmed.

Touka drags Ken from the wreckage into an alleyway, away from suspicion. Any normal human would have died too quickly to know what hit them, but Ken is a ghoul, and even though he will die, he will not do so quickly.

Fueguchi Hinami is standing beside them, her eyes wide in horror. Her invincible onii-chan is laying there, dying...

"I'll kill him," growls Touka, baring her teeth in a snarl, her kakugan activating. As she moves to get to her feet, however, Ken grabs her wrist, weakly, and rasps, "No..."

Touka tears her arm from Ken's brittle grasp and hisses, "Why the hell not? He killed you—he hurt you!"

Hinami's fingers lace into Touka's sleeve. "Onee-chan... Why would you hurt the one onii-chan protected?"

Touka flinches. Her whole world has been tainted by doing what she wants and and killing those who oppose. She has lost what selflessness she had, and all she can think is _Why not?_

"Touka-chan..." Touka glares back down at Ken's prone form, and her expression softens ever so slightly, one of fear rather than the steel edge of hatred that she always carries on her like a shield.

"Please."

He dies that way, pleading for the life of someone he doesn't know. Touka cries buckets, screams at him for his stupidity, wonders why it wasn't the kid.

Kaneki Ken is a half-ghoul. He dies with Kamishiro Rize in his soul and Kirishima Touka clutching his chest.

Kaneki Ken dies praying for the life of a stranger.

Kaneki Ken dies selflessly.

And Touka hates him for it.


	11. Rize

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Rize

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: The days that Rize took over Kaneki's tasks were possibly some of the most catastrophic days in Soul Society's written history.**

 **Well, ya know, since Ichigo can materialize Rasgar el Cielo (his Hollow), no matter how unwilling, I think it's prudent that Kaneki can materialize Rize (his inner ghoul [or kakuja, whatever]).**

 **Don't own Bleach or Tokyo Ghoul... Spaghetti and meatballs...**

* * *

There was no doubt that Kamishiro Rize was lovely.

No man (or woman, for that matter) in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads could deny the woman this fact. With long violet locks and a slender, lush body, along with a (somewhat) strict adherence to the rules, she was a model Shinigami.

Actually, she did dress like a Shinigami, in the customary shihakushô, but she was Ken's inner ghoul.

So if she was running errands for Ken, taking his place, it wasn't a good thing.

"Okay, what did Ken do this time?" Asked Ichigo in exasperation when instead of his pale, lean lieutenant, a slight young woman walked in.

"He went exploring in the Rukongai and stumbled upon Tsukiyama Shū, a... Friend of ours. Kaneki-kun, er... lost it," explained Rize, tying her purple mane back with a scarlet ribbon resembling a reiraku. "I think Tsukiyama-kun might have been killed if it weren't for Hiirokari raising hell in Kaneki-kun's mind, then proceeding to knock him out." She leaned her head upon her hand, looking slightly thoughtful. "It was highly amusing, to say the least."

Ichigo suppressed a sigh. Kamishiro-san was an unconventional woman. But then again, his entire division was queer.

He seemed to attract those types of people.

"Just try not to look people in the eye when you walk past them," conceded Ichigo, nodding towards Kamishiro-san's black-and-red eyes, signaling a constantly-activated kakugan. "You might kill my entire division in a day of heart attacks."

Kamishiro-san gave him a sweet smile that seemed to reflect Unohana-san within it. With gooseflesh creeping over his skin, he was unable to come up with a suitable response to Kamishiro-san's "It might not be heart attacks, you know. I haven't eaten in a bit."

* * *

 **"Uh-oh, did you die?"** Asked Rize innocently, letting her doubled, watery tone bleed over in her voice, repeating the phrase she had said to Kaneki-kun oh so long ago. She had been tasked with training a group of new recruits for the Fifth Division. To be frank, Ken might have had a gentler approach. The poor young Shinigami, one of the new recruits that came along with three others, was pressed up against the wall, shaking her head.

"Leave her alone!" Cried another—a boy whose name was... Ryū, Rize thought—lunging, although he was clearly terrified.

"Too slow!" **[1]** Laughed Rize, dancing out of the way. Though it had been ages, her kakuja instincts hadn't lost their edge. If possible, they had grown even sharper. She hadn't revealed her kagune yet—toying with them was much too fun—but she could see that the one recruit hanging back—a fair one with a small freckled face, Kiri—connecting the dots. No zanpaku-tô, non-spirit cloth shihakushô...

"She's not a Shingami!" Yelled little Kiri, and Rize smirked. Time to drop the nice-girl mask.

Their faces were shocked, to say the least, as her Rinkaku burst from the small of her back and flared about her, lifting her violet locks and framing her face.

 **"I am Lieutenant Kaneki's inner ghoul,"** she breathed, her kakugan eyes piercing the trembling group. **"And if you want to join Kaneki-kun and Kurosaki-kun's Division..."** A feral smile curled her lips, completely unlike the ones of childish joy thus far. **"You'll have to go through me."**

"And if we can't?" Called Ryū bravely, though his shaking hands spoke volumes.

 **"Suffice it to say you... won't exist,"** said Rize sweetly. It was at that moment that Ichigo happened to walk past.

"Captain Kurosaki!" All of them bowed, then Ryū said, a bit desperately, "Won't you stay to watch our spar?"

"You're getting your asses handed to you, aren't you?" Asked Ichigo shrewdly. Kiri gulped and exchanged glances with her group, which consisted of Ryū, a lanky girl named Akemi, and an awkwardly skinny and towheaded boy by the name of Kazuya, then said slowly, "Um, we, uh, insist, Captain Kurosaki! It shall be..."

"—fun!" Chirped Rize, and the four Shinigami swallowed hard. Their definition of "fun" and Acting Lieutenant Kamishiro's definition of "fun" was highly different.

"Oh, hell, why not?" Replied Ichigo after a pause. "I haven't got anything better to do."

"Besides paperwork," muttered Rize under her breath. The corners of Ichigo's mouth twitched.

With a war cry—which sounded horrible, thanks to puberty—Kazuya charged boldly at Rize, swiping with his zanpaku-tô. Stepping aside, Rize yawned, showing off her impressive jaw, and sneered. "Is that all? Is that how you will serve Kaneki-kun and Kurosaki-kun?"

Ryū pointed his hand at her, leaping up over her to ensure no escape from that route, as Akemi and Kiri flanked her left and right side, knowing fully she wouldn't risk an escape straight ahead with Kazuya still there and that all three could catch her from the back. Ichigo quirked an eyebrow. They thought she was well and truly trapped.

 _Oh, how the bold die young,_ he thought wryly, tugging his captain's haori in an unconscious movement as he pulled his reiatsu more securely about him. Despite it having been over two hundred years since his Substitute days, he still didn't have the best control over it, and though he'd gotten it in some order, it was still enough to kill someone upon contact, which was why he kept a seal on himself at all times. It was like wearing a thick woolen blanket that inhibited his movements, but he endured it, knowing full well that, unchecked, it could floor over half the population of the Seireitei unintentionally.

Rize smiled, and something primal in her eyes came alive. **"Gotcha."**

Kiri realized what her trap was at the same time Rize's Rinkaku snaked out. "Don't—"

One tentacle caught her in the stomach and she crashed into the wall as Ryū yelled in a rush, "Bakudō Number One: Sai!" The invisible spell didn't hit Rize; instead, Akemi was the one bound as Rize reeled her into the line of fire with another tentacle; a third grabbed Kazuya, while the fourth snatched Ryū from the sky. Both were promptly smashed together.

Ichigo watched with some amusement. "You know, you can't expect them to be at our level, Kamishiro-san."

"They're unseated officers," said Rize haughtily, tying her hair back once more (it had come undone in her frenzy). "I want proper soldiers, not these little scrawny brats."

Her form flickered suddenly—just in time to avoid a rock thrown at her head by Kiri. The girl, beyond caring about her manners, cried, "Hey, that's cheating!"

Rize blinked, surprised. Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

"Uh... Oh, I see. Excuse me for a moment, Captain," she said politely. He knew she was just playacting for the kids when she said "Captain"—she never called him by his rank unless the situation was urgent or she was teasing him—but some uneasiness stirred in his stomach. "What's wrong?"

"Kaneki-kun's plucked his reiryoku IV," said Rize, and disappeared in a burst of Mico, a ghoul's equivalent to Shunpo. There was a strained silence as Ichigo's eyes narrowed. Levelheaded Ken pulling off his IV didn't seem characteristic—unless it was another attack.

He shuddered. Nearly everyone in the upper seated level of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads had what they all referred to vaguely as 'attacks'. In particular, Ichigo, Ken, Toshiro, Shunsui, Jūshirō, Gin and Izuru had it pretty bad. It was like a disease constantly eating away at their perception and their lives.

Rize Mico-ed back into view, and her expression was bordering on irritation. Ichigo sighed. "What'd he do?"

"He pulled off the IV and starting screaming shit," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I had to slap him. It was funny, actually," she added as an afterthought. "I think my materialization is affecting him negatively, though, so I'll retreat for now. Take over, Kurosaki-kun!"

She began to dissipate, then, seemingly remembering something, said cheerily to the seated officers, "Don't die!"

Ichigo facepalmed.

One of those days.

* * *

 **[1] Yes, it's not bolded on purpose. Rize's talking Human/Shingami. Whatever.**


	12. Baits and Pranks

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Baits and Pranks

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: _Because apparently_ , Ken thought savagely as he skidded to an abrupt halt at the corner and crashed into the wall before picking up speed again, utilizing his ghoul speed out of habit and not using Flash-Step in his haste, _my subordinates are idiots!_**

 **I felt the need for humor.**

 **I just ate a really good cake that my neighbors made.**

 **It's delicious :3**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ken gaped at his superior, his captain, his friend. " _What_?"

"Some dumbass seated officer in Fifth just crushed some Hollow bait in the middle of the freaking Seireitei," snarled Ichigo, scattering papers left and right as he ran a hand through his hair and stood quickly, caught in his outrage. He visibly gathered his calm, cooling his head, then snapped his gaze towards him. "A friend of that dumbass seated officer—we will from here on out call him 'poor soul' because of what I'm going to do to him once this fucking mess has been sorted out—released another one about two miles out. You take care of that one." Ichigo gave him a long searching look, even despite the clock ticking away. "You gonna follow me?"

Ken's eyes narrowed, and his zanpaku-tô swirled before releasing without a word. "Always, sir."

Ichigo nodded—he looked half satisfied, half about to cry, even though Ken knew he never cried ever and that was just a delusion and that the expression was just hard to describe—and turned on his sandal-clad heel, tearing out of the office. Ken blinked, then charged after him.

 _I thought Fifth Division members were smart?_ Ranted Ken in his head, the shock having given way to fury.

 **Mm,** hummed Rize, amusement laced into her tone.

 _Aargh, they lied to me!_

How so? Hiirokari seemed to be on the verge of laughter.

 _Because apparently,_ Ken thought savagely as he skidded to an abrupt halt at the corner and crashed into the wall before picking up speed again, utilizing his ghoul speed out of habit and not using Flash-Step in his haste, _my subordinates are idiots!_

Don't be too harsh, said Hiirokari, her voice on the precipice of thoughtful. They're just young—

 **—And foolish!** Cried Rize, putting her two cents in. Ken scowled at the ground, frightening a small officer with an armful of books. She squeaked as he dashed past, staring at the wrathful look on the lieutenant's face, dropping the stack of calligraphy studies in her shock.

As soon as he was out of the barracks, he curled his fingers into claws and dragged his hand across the air in front of his face, and reiatsu, the scarlet of blood and of kagune, trailed from them, tearing a mask of black leather into existence that covered his human eye, and his left eye bubbled over black, its pupil dilating and turning red. Nearby officers noticed, gasped, and hurried away.

Ken leaned forward, crouching down, making an effort not to go after anyone other than his given scent. Ken was the resident "tracker", as was his eloquent nickname, courtesy of Ichigo. Give him a smell and he could go after it on all fours like a dog.

He dashed away, ignoring the startled cries of those he blew past, mind full of savage thoughts as he wondered what he would do to the poor idiot who started this whole mess.

* * *

Ichigo's gait was a panther's, long and rolling and just barely threatening. There was a long purposeful silence as he stopped, then said very evenly, "I will pull off every one of your limbs, kick your ass six ways to Sunday, and sic Ras—my Hollow on you. Are there any complaints so far?"

Ken was making a visible effort not to lunge at the two cowering officers, and as it was his clenched fists were trembling as he shot his most deadly glare at the duo. They stimultaneously _eep_ -ed and clutched each other's arms.

"Try not to kill him, Ichigo," said Lieutenant Kuchiki Rukia, half teasing and half serious. Kurosaki Ichigo's temper was known far and wide, and when incurred, it was deadly. The rest of the captains and lieutenants in attendance winced in sympathy, and Soi Fon actually growled quietly as her hand drifted to the hilt of Suzumebachi.

"You _idiots_ ," he hissed, and in his anger his reiatsu slipped from its carefully controlled state into something wild and unstable, pressing down upon everyone present, flaring out about him, bright blue mixed with black red. The two seated officers, unable to win against the roaring tide, fell to it.

The fact that the other unrelenting captains present decided to flare their own reiatsu to muffle the explosive power of Ichigo's didn't help. If anything, the officers' faces, planted in the ground, pressed further into it.

Ichigo rolled his shoulders back and unconsciously tugged his haori closed over his shihakushô with long fingers, and kept them there. It was a habit he'd taken to whenever he pulled his reiatsu around him, reining it in if it needed be.

"There could have been innocents killed," he snarled, and this time Ken clearly jerked his head, scowling heavily. Both captain and lieutenant had an identical look plastered on their features, Ichigo's hand twitching towards Zangetsu and Ken's eyebrow dancing dangerously.

Jûshirô grimaced. It looked like this set of officers would be subject to shunning for the rest of the week... Or month, or year, or a few decades, depending on how long their superiors held the distance and how angry they were about it. Ichigo knew very well how to hold a grudge, and Ken's upbringing was all about hate.

"Captain Kurosaki," interceded a voice from the front of the room. Kyôraku no Jirô Sôzôsuke Shunsui, Captain-Commander of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads and one of the few forces that could hold Ichigo's temper at bay, though more out of loyalty than anything else, rapped the table in front of them—still remaining there after the Quincy Blood War and a constant reminder never to let your guard down, hence why they had not removed it. "I insist you calm your head." He tilted his chin, offering the two suddenly-hopeful officers a caustic eyebrow and a "Though this is an incident that affected most of the Seireitei population, you may punish the two offenders with any penalty you see fit."

Ichigo bared his teeth in the mere semblance of a smile.

"My pleasure, Captain-Commander."

* * *

"Two thousand yen **[1]** Ichigo-kun murders them," said Shunsui with a cup of sake at his lips. Kenpachi laughed with a "Nah, three thousand five hundred **[2]**. Ichigo was pissed! I heard him and Kaneki yelling when I passed their office."

The conversation—and subtle betting—ceased as soon as Ichigo and Ken entered the bar.

The room grew at least ten degrees colder.

There was blood dripping from the corners of Ken's mouth, from his own wound or from another's impossible to tell.

All members of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads knew of Ken's... "eating habits", as they called them. The half-ghoul's gaze was fixed upon some indiscerible point in the air, and Ichigo was saying crisply, "That field report was beyond terrible, I mean, really, who says the word 'powwows' nowadays—"

"Ken," said Soi Fon, very evenly. All eyes went to the bloodied half-ghoul. Hearts plummeted when Ken opened his mouth to answer, and his speech was severely stilted, as it usually was after... A hunt. "Captain." He snapped his shoulders back in a straight, respectful line, and tilted his head with an easy smile.

The effect was disconcerting.

"What did you do?"

Ichigo looked away, his hair, longer than it had been before the Quincy Blood War, shading his eyes as the line of his shoulders trembled minutely. Soi Fon noticed, as was her job, and her frown grew deeper, a flash of fear in her eyes.

"Ken, _what did you do?_ "

Ken's answer was formal and still stilted. "I ate, Captain. What else?"

Hands moved slowly lower, to zanpaku-tôs. Shunsui's relaxed posture tensed, and Kenpachi's grin dimmed as he tugged Yachiru closer to him ever so slightly. There was a long silence, then—

"Pfft— _Hahahahaha!"_ Laughed Ichigo, collapsing against the wall with tears in his eyes. Ken, signaled by his captain that the prank was over, gagged and leaned over a trash can in the corner, retching, scrubbing the acryllic paint from his mouth with a doleful "Ichigo, why paint?!"

There was another long pause, this one filled with Ichigo's rare laughter and Ken's heaving, then was promptly punctured by Tôshirô's very calm "I'm going to freeze this establishment over in ten... nine... eight..."

* * *

 **[1] about twenty bucks or so**

 **[2] about thirty bucks or so**


	13. One Day

Flowers From Hell

* * *

One Day

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: One day, the bloodshed will end, and the corruption gone, and peace, peace, _peace_.**

 **This was pretty much word vomit.**

 **Sorry about the long wait with DwD, the plot is beginning to elude me. Looks like Chap 4 will have all the action in it.**

 **Oh, and if you noticed Moondance, drop a review if you'd like. Honestly, I'm just writing it because I need an outlet for my Preciousmetalshipping (GoldxSilver).**

* * *

It's just subtle on some people. On Kusajishi Yachiru, she wears her scars and her cares on a sleeve shorter than her shoulder, hefting it around like nothing, because some people have their fears and their insecurities but Yachiru's a feather drifting, drifting, and she doesn't know the meaning of "fear" because she associates it with weakness.

Kusajishi Yachiru would rather die than be weak.

The dragon, coiled and tense ready to tear bone and sinew and flesh, Hitsugaya Tôshirô, is marked over his heart with it. He knows it better than someone his age should, he knows violence like a veteran, knows blood like a butcher, knows repentance like a sinner. He is well acquainted with everything he should and distant at best with everything else. Hitsugaya Tôshirô is the big dragon ready to kill because he knows very well what will happen if he doesn't.

Hitsugaya Tôshirô hates the blood of innocents on his hands, and for all the scrubbing of his hands he does as he washes them, the red only mixes with the water and he hates it, hates it, but it won't go away.

Zaraki Kenpachi has a disregard for it because he's hardhearted and a killer, and if he let it touch his heart he would never be the same, so he closes his doors and locks them, draws the curtains and pulls his scars and his cares over his shoulder and never looks back. Looking back is regretting, is doubting the voice he chose to follow, and Kenpachi is anything but foolish, so he quashes the doubts, crushed his qualms, takes Yachiru's hand and leads it away.

Even an old lion is a carnivore, after all, and all one can do is run away.

Kurosaki Ichigo, the war veteran died too young, let it too close to his heart and it wrapped its tendrils around him and by the time he wished to get away he could never let go. He has what he loves and he protects them, and that's what makes them that much worse.

It's bad, it's hateful, he should've known better from the very start—but all he can do is walk away, the flying creature that lost its wings and tastes of salt, of misery, and blurs around the corners, tears wiped hastily away because what will be made better with tears?

Nothing.

Aizen Sôsuke crushed it with his heel. Having it would burden him, so he maimed it and kicked it and left it to die, the lost puppy with all pride drained from its eyes, and Sôsuke prefers it that way, less distractions on his way to God, but like that, he is only a cunning thief, who knows the right words and the best ways and how to do what to get what he wants. He wants to understand, but pushing it away only made him more greedy. He reached above his given station and grasped desperately and what would never belong to anyone, godhood, and he was dragged down deeper for it.

Kaneki Ken hates it, hates it more than he hates himself and what he is, because _I'm a monster and I don't belong, I'm the anomaly, will someone please be merciful and end it now._

Hope is the powerful, and nothing good ever comes out of wanting too much of it. Kusajishi Yachiru traded hope for carefreeness. Hitsugaya Tôshirô traded hope for pain. Zaraki Kenpachi traded hope for indifference. Kurosaki Ichigo traded hope for selflessness.

Kaneki Ken still holds it like fragile china, even though he wants to kill it off. _What's good of it? What makes it better? Stop it, stop it, stop it!_

One day, the bloodshed will end, and the corruption gone, and peace, peace, _peace_.

 _So all we can do is wait._


	14. Recuperation

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Recuperation

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: There is blood pooling at my stomach. Three of my kakuja tentacles lay scattered around me. Grinding agony is roaring in every part of my body. My first coherent thought is "What the hell happened?"**

 **Tried to make it funny up there.**

 **As funny as can be with blood.**

 **Don't read this chapter if you don't like blood.**

 **There's not a whole gory anecdote, it's just... Description of it.**

 **Oh yeah! Last chapter! So basically "Bait" and "Pranks" were two separate chaps, but both were too short and I was really tired so I mashed 'em together. Yeah.**

 **Oh and about the flower insignia talk at the hospital is all real. Research, my friends. If you recall at the end of chapter six, Wary, there's pasque flowers in Ken's vase again, courtesy of Shaolin. Isane's figured out where the unusual white pasque flowers that are the color of Ken's hair are coming from, so she sends them back dried in an envelope later, after Ken's all healed up. Shaolin tends to frame these and send them to Ken, who sends them to Yoruichi. Soon after Shaolin realized where the _purple_ pasque flowers from _Yoruichi_ were coming from, she started sending Yoruichi flowers, too. **

**More than usual, I mean. With chocolate.**

 **Shaolin knows the way to her lover's heart: food.**

 **Oh, and Ichigo isn't in love with Tôshirô. It's someone else. If you know me, you know who it is...**

 **Here's a hint: Tear the Sky**

 **So sorry about the SUPER LONG wait! As a treat, a SUPER LONG chapter has been concocted for all you patient dears!**

 **UGH GOD KEN'S TOO POLITE FOR HIS OWN GOOD IT'S SUCH A PAIN TO WRITE OUT EVERYBODY'S MILITARY TITLE!**

 **Still don't own Bleach or Tokyo Ghoul, either...**

* * *

"Ken! Ken!"

"Captain Hitsugaya!"

"Ichigo, are you okay—"

" _Ken_!"

I can't move. My fingers curl into the ground, which, for some unfathomable reason, is icy cold. _What the hell just happened?_

You just got crushed underneath falling boulders. Try not to move, says Hiirokari's low voice. Something warm—blood, probably—pulses at my right temple, and when I try to reach up to feel what it is, I realize that my arms are pinned to my side. _Great_.

 **Kaneki-kun? Captain Soi Fon and Hideyoshi-kun are calling for you. It sounds like Hitsugaya-kun and Kurosaki-kun were buried, as well,** murmurs Rize-san.

"Ichigo? Damn it, Ichigo, you've gotten nearly sliced in half, you're going to give up under a few boulders?!" That's... Lieutenant Kuchiki's voice. She sounds worried. She's right, though. I should be fine if it's just a few boulders—

Half the cliff just exploded on you, Ken. Hiirokari sounds exasperated.

"God—you're better than this, Ken! Get out here!" Shaolin's voice... That's the first time since I've met her that she's ever sounded frazzled. I'm going to blackmail her after this—and doubt coils in the pit of my stomach like a black snake, twisting my insides. _Check that._ If _I make it, that is._

 **You'll be fine, Kaneki-kun.** Rize-san's voice shakes slightly, and even with just a shadow of my coherence, I can tell she's afraid. And that's when _I_ start to panic, because Rize-san is never afraid, not against the mightiest of foes, not when I am at the feet of a merciless killer, not even at the fiery wrath of Captain Ichigo. And yet here she is, afraid, afraid because in the most life-threatening of battles, like with Captain Ichigo's Hollow Rasgar el Cielo, she has the ability to take over, put a hole in my heart when it would surely stop, and keep me alive through the painful fight, but now she has no control over what is happening and I am going to die—

Ken! Hiirokari shouts, and I wince as her voice, raised in alarm, sends a piercing ache shooting through my skull. And then all the pain in my stomach, my shoulder, the leg that's pinned under something, even my severed kakugan nerves, joins together to form a dissonant chorus of agony.

There's a loud cry to my right, and with a grinding sound that suggests a knife being pulled from a sharpener, a strip of light slices across my vision.

"Ken! Oi!" Calls Hide, and his wide-eyed, panicky face swims into my line of vision. I make a conscious effort not to hiss and instead manage a hoarse "Hide?"

"Yes, you're okay, it's me," he says, and his voice is relieved. "It's me."

"What the hell happened?" I moan, as Hide kicks away another large piece of rubble and Shaolin removes a third. With my vision largely unobscured, I can make out Shaolin's angular face, sleek and clean-cut, beautiful, lacking her usual crisp air. Instead, her thick-lashed eyes are narrowed and guarded, hiding the storm within. Past her are Captains Hirako of the Seventh, Muguruma of the Ninth, and Ishida of the Twelfth, along with Lieutenants Kuchiki, Abarai, Sado and co-Third Seat Inoue, all working together to pull Ichigo out from under a particularly troublesome boulder, nearly the size of the Fifth Division barracks, with a groove just large enough for him to breathe without actually being crushed. Captain Ukitake, Third Seat Hinamori and Rangiku-san are calling Captain Hitsugaya's name, and upon closer inspection, I realize the ground has frozen, explaining its temperature and why it was icy to the touch. Captain-Commander Kyôraku's eyes are all but popping from his skull as he inspects the damage, and Lieutenant Ise is yelling directions to the remaining hassled officers.

I wince, propping myself up on my elbows, realizing with a grimace that I must have gone kakuja. There must have been a battle—which at the moment I can't recall—and it must have been dire. To my relief, I have returned to the standard shihakushô, and my adjutant's badge is secured onto my left arm, hiding most of the damage, though the blood seeping through the spirit cloth is harder to hide.

And then Hide's suddenly there, pretty much holding me upright, steady and warm and unyielding. I can't help the smile that fights its way to my lips, despite the pain pulsing with every thud of my heart. The hardheadedness that I fell in love with.

"Oh, dear God, Ken, you're being mushy," says Hide under his breath, scooping me up when I take one step and the whole world tilts one-eighty degrees. Oh. I must have said that out loud. Whoops. He's inspecting the rubble where Captain Hitsugaya last was, and I can barely discern the tuft of white specked with red under a huge rock covered with moss, but I point anyway and hiss, "Captain Hitsugaya!" and immediately Third Seat Hinamori, Rangiku-san and Captain Ukitake leap onto the pile like hounds, searching for him. There's a general outcry, and then Captain Ukitake gently shifts a small crumpled figure with white hair in his arms like one would hold a child, and Captain Hirako is letting Ichigo lean heavily on him, and Captain-Commander Kyôraku looks vastly relieved.

"Off to the Fourth," he commands, and Hide nods, and he, Captain Ukitake, and Captain Hirako, each with their own in their arms, Flash-Step to the Fourth, and I can feel the world spiral away from my consciousness.

* * *

"Isane, you've got to be kidding me."

I blink, warding off the black fuzzy edges of my vision. I can see the bright daylily-colored blur that I determine to be Ichigo's hair, and his amber eyes are stretched wide with disbelief at the Fourth Division Captain, Kotetsu Isane, who has grown her hair down to her waist and tied it back, similar to the previous captain Unohana Retsu's own. The only things dissimilar are their personalities and hair color—but Captain Kotetsu seems to be channeling the former in particular as well.

"You want _us_... All in _one room_ during recovery."

 _That_ gets my attention. Ichigo, Captain Hitsugaya and I in one room is a recipe for disaster. Captain Hitsugaya can't stand Ichigo's teasing, and Ichigo can't help but tease Captain Hitsugaya. On top of that, though Captain Hitsugaya and I are on neutral terms, we haven't taken the last step towards _friends_ , and our exchanges contain a maximum of thirteen words at most.

There is a long silence that turns from awkward to chilling, and I unintentionally shiver when I catch sight of Captain Kotetsu's face. She is smiling perfectly serenely, but the room has turned a few degrees colder and the sun has gone in. She says through a thick layer of _peaceful_ , "Captain Kurosaki, I believe that this will prove beneficial to your recuperation."

"Hanatarô-kun's betting on you three putting aside your painfully obvious differences and emerging anew with a strong bond developing between each other," calls Rangiku-san from the doorway with a cheerful grin on her face. I gulp, and Ichigo presses his hand to his temple.

"Hanatarô's opinion," he says, his eyes closed as though in physical pain, "is null, because one day, he'll die of a heart attack, and the direct cause'll be something small, fluffy, and wide-eyed with tears brimming."

I can't help but silently agree, because Third Seat Yamada is soft, much more so than some other officers. The only thing contradicting his wallflower personality is his uncanny healing prowess.

Captain Kotetsu pins Ichigo to the wall with a stare, and I'm reminded again of deceased Captain Unohana Retsu. "I hold co-Third Seat Yamada's opinion in high regard, Captain Kurosaki. He is a critical component of our Division."

Ichigo squeaks a "sure" and everyone that was struggling to get in past the wall of arms created by some Fourth Division members tumbles in as the healers quietly disperse at Captain Kotetsu's nod. Lieutenants Kuchiki and Abarai storm Ichigo, and I can vaguely hear Lieutenant Kuchiki punch Ichigo and babble away about being reckless. Hide launches a full-on assault on me, as Shaolin daintily sets a cluster of pasque flowers, the insignia of the Second Division, into a previously readied vase filled with bellflowers, the Fourth Division insignia, which she discreetly dumps into the trash can nearby. Captain Hitsugaya, who has regained consciousness in the last thirty seconds, blinks blearily as Third Seat Hinamori shouts at him.

"You don't remember, do you?" Asks Hide, lowly, and his voice goes unnoticed in the hubbub becides me and Shaolin, whose eyes narrow. _He doesn't?_

"I don't recall any of it," I mutter. "But that's normal when I go _kakuja_ , isn't it?" It's a rhetorical question, the word _kakuja_ said with the utmost derision, and Hide knows it, and knows me well enough to steer clear of it. He instead tactfully switches topics with a "So, Ken, what'd you say about the part of me you fell in love with?" The question is posed _very_ loudly, and half the room turns scarlet or whips around to look at us. Shaolin quickly falls into easy chatter with Lieutenant Ise who is here to supervise (the two are surprisingly good friends) to divert suspicion from herself. She has Secret Tactics Service training. Traitor.

Hide beams at the room at large, very proud of himself for attracting all this attention, and I flush before jabbing Hide's arm, unintentionally straining the reiryoku IV drip. I wince, and Hide's eyes narrow.

Captain Hitsugaya decides to be a little merciful and says in a drawl, louder even than Hide, "Kurosaki, remember that _little crush_ you told me about?" Immediately the majority of the room rounds on Ichigo, who yells, without thinking, " _Damn it_ , Tôshirô, you swore you'd _never tell anyone_!" This confirms Captain Hitsugaya's bait, and everyone starts shouting, except for Captain Hitsugaya, Hide, and me. As Hide fusses over the IV drip, I see Captain Hitsugaya nod tactfully at me, lips twitching as he watches Ichigo being mobbed by Rukia, Rangiku-san, and Captain Kotetsu, who is trying to ward the crowd off.

I tilt my head, scrutinizing him.

Perhaps we have made that step toward "friendship" after all.

* * *

 _Day One_

"Kurosaki, I appreciate your sensitivity. However, I do not require you to _carry me around every single time I need to use the restroom._ I'd only said I required assistance getting there."

"Hey, there, Tôshirô. You said it, not me."

"This is revenge for yesterday. It's _got_ to be revenge for yesterday. Kaneki, tell me, is this revenge for yesterday?"

I make a monumental effort not to smile. As it is, I'm already shaking. "I'm assuming it is, Tôshirô-kun."

He's expressed his desire that I call him by his first name. He hasn't yet given Ichigo that right, but Ichigo disregards everything, so I can't say Tôshirô-kun can do anything about it.

Ichigo's returning from his hobbling trip to the restroom with Tôshirô-kun bundled in his arms, and the captain looks like he would rather enjoy cleaving Ichigo's head off for it. Ichigo dumps the young captain onto his bed, and Tôshirô scowls before neatly rehooking himself to the IV drip with an air of experience. Ichigo doesn't bother putting it back in as he flops back and opens a book a blushing co-Third Seat Yamada brought him, and I sigh as I pluck my own, limp over to Ichigo, grab his arm, wrestle the drip back in, and stagger back to insert my own again.

"You're such a mother hen, Ken," says Ichigo, a whiny tone entering his voice, and I whip a novel at his head purely out of frustration. Ichigo grabs it and tosses it right at Tôshirô-kun, though it promptly freezes when it enters the vicinity that Tôshirô-kun bubbles his reiatsu in and falls as gravity takes its toll on it. Tôshirô-kun's hand shoots out to catch it. He waits patiently until it melts, then opens to a random page and begins to read.

It's a shame. The slim volume was a favorite of mine.

"Kidô session," sings co-Third Seat Inoue, breezing in, followed by co-Third Seat Yamada, who looks distinctly harassed, with his hair sticking up every which way, his shitagi under his black kosode sticking out to the side, and Ogidô-san, rummaging through his medical bag and fixing his adjutant's badge on his arm. I wince in sympathy when co-Third Seat Inoue cheerily ruffles Ichigo's hair, much more roughly than intended. Though her rejecting ability is amazing, we learned that if she rejects too much damage at just one time, the injury will come back more forcibly, which we learned the hard way when, during the middle of a captain's meeting, Tôshirô-kun collapsed with blood spraying from his shoulder to his stomach, and soon after Ichigo dropped with a hole the size of a Hollow's punched through his chest.

It wasn't a very informative captain's meeting.

Ogidô-san pokes me in the side of the head with a finger and I nearly hit the ceiling when I jump. "Hello, Earth to Kaneki-kun! I said Inoue-san's gonna take care of Hitsugaya-kun today!" He jabs a thumb at co-Third Seat Inoue, who's greeting Tôshirô-kun just as energetically. She let go of her little crush on Ichigo a while back, and began making moves on Captain Ishida with a subtlety that was widely unknown she possessed. By the end of the year, the two were together—much to the disappointment of Seventh Seat Honshô Chizuru, of the Ninth Division, and many fans who had believed she would go running to Fourth Seat Arisawa Tatsuki in the Eleventh.

Co-Third Seat Yamada visibly brightens at this, straightening slightly, and when Ichigo grins at him with a half-raised arm and a "Yo, Hanatarô," he blushes fiercely and stammers, "H-H-Hello, C-Capt—I-Ichig-go-san!"

I roll my eyes, as does my ages-ago crush, Ogidô-san. Even I wasn't that obvious when I had once, nearly fifty years ago, approached Ogidô-san, who had smiled gently and said, "Sorry, Kaneki-kun. I'm straight." Ichigo doesn't quite has the willpower to do that, so we have to endure the painful process of Ichigo trying to gather the wits to reject co-Third Seat Yamada without actually hurting him.

The romantic interests in Soul Society are like an endless maze; impossible to navigate and far too many variables.

"This is pathetic," murmurs Ogidô-san, and I nod before coughing, "KHOFF-Unrequited!-KHOFF!"

Tôshirô-kun snorts into his glass of water.

* * *

 _Day Two_

I wake up at one in the morning to find the room below freezing and my blanket a solid block of ice, and groan quietly.

Not again.

The worst part of sharing a hospital room is, apparently, the fact that everyone is kept up by everyone else's nightmares. Just three hours ago I shot bolt upright screaming my head off, and about thirty minutes after that Ichigo nearly Getsuga Tenshô-ed the Fourth Division in half, so this is the longest period any of us have had with sleep.

Ichigo shifts slightly and says in a whisper, "It's fuckin' cold in here... That Tôshirô's reiatsu?"

"Uh-huh," I say softly, flaring my reiatsu in an attempt to warm myself up. Hiirokari is less of an elemental zanpaku-tô and more a physical one, though, so it doesn't exactly work, but it does help get my blood flowing.

"Psst! Tôshirô!" Hisses Ichigo, and I can hear his hospital shitagi rustle as he violently extracts his arm from the ice that was his blanket and poke Tôshirô in the ribs, hard.

Immediately the temperature plummets another good twenty degrees, and Ichigo gasps as he recoils. "Aw, shit!"

I snarl and release my kagune, which sizzles upon contact with the freezing ice—and memories flood back. In hindsight, I suppose I should have realized earlier that the blank space that inevitably happens after I go kakuja always comes back, but now it only staggers me, and I blank out with Ichigo saying my name.

 _"Ken!"_

 _I hiss, darting towards a nearby Arrancar at high speeds. I am an incomplete kakuja, and until I learn control myself, I am only a weapon of my own war, tied to nothing and no one but myself in my insatiable hunger. As centipedes a hundred times the size of any normal centipede slither from my back, Shaolin ducks beneath a huge arm and yells, "Kill them, kakuja!"_

 _Shaolin, inexplicably, is the only person able to control me. As such, Hide is the only person able to break me from the kakuja trance, Ichigo the only person able to, in the very least, bump me back to a normal ghoul, and Yachiru the only person able to make me stop attacking._

 _I howl, animalistic, obeying the mistress's orders, and lunge at one of the few Arrancar left. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Tôshirô-kun as he glances towards me, starts, then, in a flicker of Shunpo, brings down Hyôrinmaru to meet my kagune, his back wide open to my opponent._

 _The Arrancar smiles wickedly._

 _And explodes, bringing half of the bottom of Sôkyoku Hill down on us._

"Ken?"

My gasps cling to my lungs. My hands, clenching the edge of the sheet of ice, are clammy, burning with cold. In the dim glow that my scarlet Rinkaku casts around the room, I see two pairs of eyes, glowing eerily with reiatsu. Amber must be Ichigo. And teal.

"I didn't think you were stupid enough to try and save an incomplete kakuja, Tôshirô," I breathe, and there's a long, heavy silence. I wait patiently, knowing Tôshirô wants a moment to recollect his wits.

"I was stupid enough to believe in a father figure, only to have him disappear before my eyes. I was stupid enough to trust the kindest man I ever knew, only to have him run his zanpaku-tô through my gut. I was stupid enough to look away from my best friend for a few moments, only to nearly kill her when I focused again." Tôshirô's white head moves slightly in the dim light, and he says, lowly, in a killer's voice that doesn't suit the young captain, "Don't tell me what I'm stupid enough to do."

* * *

 _ **Day Three**_

The room's silence is icy, instead of comfortable, unlike yesterday. Ichigo is visibly disconcerted, squirming and making transparent attempts at conversation that fall flat on his face. Captain Ishida, who came in earlier, discussed a quick theory regarding reishi concentration with Tôshirô, all the while making signals to Ichigo, ranging from a delicate cough to a loudly said phrase that flaunted all the subtlety of a brick to the face, to try and understand just what had occurred that made the lively room quiet.

Tôshirô's silence isn't exactly forced, since he's always been the quiet type, but his eyes hold Hell in them and even though I wanted to try and speak to him earlier, I took one look at his expression and backed off with my tail between my legs.

When the kidô session team traipses in, they're momentarily bemused, but Ichigo makes a quick vehement hand motion and no one says a word for about five minutes.

Then co-Third Seat Inoue says gently to Tôshirô, "You can't blame him, you know."

Ogidô-san's hands pause, and the faint green glow of kaidô **[1]** fades from his hands. Co-Third Seat Yamada hesitates similarly, and all heads turn, some inquisitively and some uncomfortably, to look at Tôshirô and co-Third Seat Inoue.

Tôshirô shifts his head to look at the healer from the corner of his eye. "I know, Inoue-san. And I'm not blaming him. Do I seem the type?"

"No," says co-Third Seat Inoue, pacifying. Her tones are soothing, and Tôshirô, momentarily disturbed, relaxes and moves his shoulders. "But you're brooding, Hitsugaya-kun, and everyone here knows it. It's not all Kaneki-san, either. So... What?"

My teeth snag on my lip, and Ogidô-san's hands busy themselves again with kaidô. Why didn't I notice? The silence wasn't icy, it was turbulent. I should have known that Tôshirô, wiser than he should be at his age, would know better than to hold a grudge against me for something he would obviously deem childish.

"Just..." Tôshirô grinds a hand into his eyelids, a picture of frustration. "God, how long will it take people to realize I'm not a child? I realize what I'm doing, I know how my actions will affect the future, so why do they act like it's such a big deal?"

I lower my eyes in shame. Yes, that's exactly what I've been doing. Treating him like a child because of his aesthetic, with implies that he is. But he is a captain, he is something better, and the respect he's garnered is not people pitying him, it's people acknowledging his strength. Something I have done exactly the opposite of.

Shit.

So I do the only thing I can, despite being possibly the most emotionally stunted member of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. I raise my head, catch eyes with Tôshirô, and say as sincerely as I can, "I apologize, Tôshirô."

There's a good pause, during which co-Third Seat Inoue smiles and Tôshirô analyzes me. Then, just as he's about to say something heartfelt, Ichigo says, "Holy _shit_ , that was so cheesy."

" _GODDAMMIT, ICHIGO_!"

* * *

 **[1] Yes, that's actually what healing kidô is called. "Turning way", that's what it means.**

 **That ending tho. I was in a rush, and I was kinda desperate to get you guys something, anything.**


	15. Drunk Texting: Rasgar to Rize

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Drunk Texting: Rasgar to Rize

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Rasgar drunk texting Rize. This is not gonna be pretty.**

 **Rasgar el Cielo is my name for Ichigo's Inner Hollow. Want details? Check out my other story, Dancing with Death!**

 **Goddamn it, I'm advertising...**

 **Writing this on my phone for more realism!**

 **I even rehearsed this with Allie (Until Alpenglow)!**

 **Oh, by the way, if you're a fan of classic anime (hand-drawn, i.e. Captain Harlock, Miyazaki Hayao films...), I dared Allie to write drabble collections of what the hell characters of her favorite classic anime were thinking and how their thinking process goes. She isn't exactly a crack shot at humor, so her stuff is on the somber side, but hey—at least she does it.**

 **Let's just assume that the standard-issue Hollow-detector phones are able to send and receive texts and calls.**

 **Don't own Bleach... Yeeeeeaah...**

* * *

 **To Kamishiro:**

Hay

 **To Kamishiro:**

How bout u n me go out sumtime

 **To Kamishiro:**

Itll be fun

 **To Kamishiro:**

Well kill lots of ppl

 **To Kurosaki-kun's Hollow:**

How did you get this phone number?

 **To Kurosaki-kun's Hollow:**

Oh my God, are you drunk?

 **To Kamishiro:**

well of cors im drunk

 **To Kamishiro:**

wth do u think ive ben doing kamishro

 **To Kurosaki-kun's Hollow:**

There are at least fifty things I want to do right now, including correct the many errors in your sentences.

 **To Kamishiro:**

ur a rite bitch

 **To Kurosaki-kun's Hollow:**

Don't flatter yourself, Hollow.

 **To Kurosaki-kun's Hollow:**

Okay, let's try this the easy way.

 **To Kurosaki-kun's Hollow:**

To start off, what's your name?

 **To Kamishiro:**

my name? Rasgar el cielo

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

Good. Now where are you?

 **To Kamishiro:**

I dont fuckin kno

 **To Kamishiro:**

King made me show up

 **To Kamishiro:**

And now i dont kno were he went

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

Do I have to call him?

 **To Kamishiro:**

go rite ahed

 **To Kamishiro:**

i sure dont got his fone #

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

You're his Inner Hollow... And you don't have his phone number.

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

What the hell is going on...

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

Aaaand he's not picking up.

 **To Kamishiro:**

well isnt that ffking wunderfl

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

Shut up, Hollow. Are you near a bar?

 **To Kamishiro:**

Dvhbs. S jajsnzhxhjcj jjjjuuuuujjjjjjz

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

What?

 **To Kamishiro:**

i just git trown put of 1

 **To Rasgar el Cielo:**

I give up.


	16. Someone Else's Kill

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Someone Else's Kill

* * *

 **Summary: Because it was someone else's crown. It was someone else's kill.**

 **Tragedy.**

 **This is what I think could have occurred had Ken been with Ichigo every step of the way. I think Ken's kinda like Yasutora (YES YASUTORA IS CHAD'S FIRST NAME) in that he's loyal to the bitter end.**

 **OH AND ICHIGO'S SECRET CRUSH IS NONE OTHER THAN...**

 **Please don't kill me for this.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

 **Update thirty minutes after first upload: Holy _shit_ this is the fourth time I'm uploading this chapter because of typos and past/present tense inaccuracies! Hell, I almost deleted the story! (That was a nightmare.)**

 **GOD!**

* * *

Ken watches as Ichigo achieves Bankai.

He is the only one out of the group that managed to stay with Ichigo throughout all of his fights, but he stood by and watched calmly as Kenpachi beat Ichigo's ass six ways to Sunday, then stood, trembling under the weight of his own reiatsu, and cut down the bloodthirsty maniac in one slice. It was he who picked him up and Shunpo-ed until he found Yoruichi, and waited patiently as Ichigo swam doggedly towards consciousness.

Ichigo drags himself up, and sways over to the hot springs, muttering obscenities under his breath that Ken thinks might be addressed to Zangetsu. It's only later, when Ichigo's asleep and Ken's leaning against the wall, that the spirits appear. A tall man with a billowing black cloak and a bleached-white copy of Ichigo. They look at Ichigo with equal anguish in their gazes. The zanpaku-tô spirit fades away first, but the Hollow remains. Just as Ken is about to turn in for the night, he turns to him.

 **"You're different,"** says the Hollow, and Ken glances to the side to study him. He's Ichigo's exact double in nearly every way, but his features are sharper, and his language a little less sophisticated. When Ken raises his brows for clarification, the Hollow's mouth twists in a smile that looks a lot more like a grimace. **"You'd leave King an' me alone. You were about t'sleep now, an' I know your type. You're th'kind of guy who literally sleeps with one eye open, all th'time. You trust me."**

Ken shrugs, and just to enforce this turns onto his side, facing away from Ichigo. Honestly, he _doesn't_ trust the Hollow (not much, anyway), but logically, the Hollow is an _Inner_ Hollow, and shouldn't be able to exist without sustenance from Ichigo himself. If push comes to shove, well... He thinks his ghoul reflexes are fast enough to keep Ichigo, in the very least, _alive._

 **"Thanks, ghoul."** The last bit is said derisively, but in good humor, and Ken stiffens. How does he know?

 **"I can taste it. It's in your reiatsu. Reiatsu doesn't lie, Kaneki. It'll do you some good t'remember that."** The Hollow pauses, then, with a hand far gentler than Ken expected, caresses Ichigo's face for just a moment.

He's gone between one breath and the next, but his voice lingers, trapped in the walls of Yoruichi's cave, hanging there. **"Please keep my Ichi safe."**

Ken stops moving for a moment, feigning sleep, as Yoruichi walks in, her hair hanging down. She chuckles lowly as she catches sight of him and Ichigo, curled up onto their sides, then disappears from Ken's view for a moment. When she returns, it's with thick blankets in her arms—it's cold in the dank cave, though Yoruichi clearly likes it—and she drapes them over the two with an amused, "I used to be just as sleepy after a good tiring day."

There's a bit of shuffling, some rustling and tossing and turning, and when there's complete silence save the deep, even breaths of peaceful slumber, Ken whispers, "You can count on me."

* * *

When Ken spots the bright blue mop of bad-dye-job hair smack in the middle of the sky, the only thing he can think is _Oh, shit._

He knocks over a hall table as he sprints to Ichigo's room in the dark. He kicks the door open, lunges for Ichigo's Substitute Shinigami badge, presses it against his own chest, snatches Kon, and ejects the Mod Soul into his own body. While Kon growls obscenities in a series of loud whispers, he grabs a dazed Ichigo's arm and snarls, "Arrancar!" and Ichigo is wide awake, jumping out of the window and tearing down the street.

"Get me back to my room and _save it_ ," hisses Ken, and his kakugan must have activated, because Kon freezes before nodding mechanically.

"Good." He jumps out after Ichigo, knowing the Underpod Konpaku will keep the secret, and sees Orihime weaving around a street, with Tôshirô and Rangiku on either side of her, and relaxes. At least she'll be safe.

Half an hour later Ken limp-Shunpos towards the rooftop that Tôshirô fell on spurting blood, regretting following Ichigo in the first place.

"Kaneki-kun!" Cries Orihime when she sees him. Tôshirô is swathed in bandages, with Rangiku carrying him as though he weighed about as much as a feather, but Ken takes one look at Tôshirô and knows he's probably about as _useful_ as a feather at this point, as well. Rukia's stomach, which Ken saw ravaged earlier, has been healed cleanly (why this isn't the same for Tôshirô Ken's unsure, maybe he was losing blood too fast and Orihime couldn't replace the blood because it was being lost faster than she was rejecting it back). And Ichigo...

Ichigo is clutching the side of his face, his knuckles white with tension. His eye... Oh, dear Lord, his eye...

Ken thinks he might be having a panic attack, because the next moments are snapshots as he staggers back and Orihime reaches for him and Rukia mouths something like his name that sounds like it might be underwater and Ichigo's eye is _gold-on-black no that can't be a kakugan are you Hollow?_

 **"Please keep my Ichi safe."**

 _How the hell do you expect me to keep him safe if you're the one driving him over the edge?!_

* * *

"You told me to protect him."

 **"I know."**

"Why are you doing this to him, then?"

 **"Well, I gotta protect him too, don't I? How th'hell'm I supposed to keep him safe if he's got th'self-preservation instincts of dog shit?"**

"...You're trying to protect him."

 **"Key word's _tryin'_. I swear King's _meaning_ to impale himself on every single fuckin' zanpaku-tô he sees."**

"This is crazy."

 **"Th'hell did you jus' call me?"**

"You love him, don't you?"

 **"..."**

 _"Don't you?"_

 **"...Just remember. You promised me you wouldn't let Ichi die."**

Ken thinks about that for a minute—just a minute.

 _Why "don't let him die?" Wasn't it "keep him safe?"_

Ken's eyes lower, fixing upon the ground with a sullen intensity.

 _So you're getting more desperate._

* * *

The Winter War sweeps right past him.

Ken watches dilligently as Ichigo joins the Vizard, confronts his Hollow, and learns to fight _with_ him, not against. He watches as Ichigo rescues Orihime, gets his heart blown out, and turns into a bloodthirsty killing machine without a shred of moral sense in his body. He watches as Ichigo trains more and more brutally, grows more and more desperate, and finally watches as Ichigo enters the Dangai.

He's batting away zanpaku-tô as they aim at his friend's exposed back when there's a collective gasp, emptying any and all possible sets of lungs, accompanied by the anguished, agonized scream of a dying Hollow, and the unthinkable happens.

Ken turns, as if in slow motion.

 _December 31st, 2013. One day before the dawn of a new life, and one day before the Winter War's end._

 _Kurosaki Ichigo, friend, fiery, fought for an organization he didn't even know well at the age of fifteen, falls in battle._

 _Kaneki Ken is the one to blow off Aizen's head with all the fury of a coherent kakuja, but the jubilance of victory sinks in his mind, turns cold and curdles in his gut._

 _It's not fair._

 _He was hailed as the one who emerged truly triumphant. He was bestowed the crown and title of hero, and given credit as the one to finally murder Aizen's rotten ass, but it in no way lifts his dull and withering spirits._

 _Because it was someone else's crown. It was someone else's kill._


	17. Cry Wolf

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Cry Wolf

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: You'd think that after six hundred and seventy-nine years, Ken would have learned his lesson about hope.**

 **Don't own Bleach or Tokyo Ghoul.**

* * *

They're all dead?

All dead, Ken.

Why?

 **It was your choice. We obeyed.**

I see.

It was because of the death of one.

Is that so?

 **A massacre for a life.**

Was that accusing?

 **Not at all. We are yours, Kaneki-kun.**

I know. I speak, you answer. I call, you hear. The only ones I can rely on.

Don't rely on us too much, Ken. We are only so compliant.

Was that a threat, Hiirokari?

No.

 **What about Nagachika-kun?**

What of him? Where has he gone?

...

 **...**

No. No.

He is dead, Ken.

No.

 **Yes. You wanted justice. We helped you gain it.**

But this is not what I wanted.

You did not want it?

 **It is what you received.**

Take care of what you wish for, Ken.

 **You tread on thin ice.**

I always did! This is not what I wanted to gain from it!

 **Do not shout, Kaneki-kun. We hear you no matter what.**

Even when you do not want us to.

THIS ISN'T WHAT I'D WANTED!

 **I'm sorry, Kaneki-kun.**

None of us wanted this.

 **But there must have been a reason for the flowers of hell, right?**


	18. Black Rabbit

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Black Rabbit

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter:** **White hair, mist eyes, irritated concern.** **Purple hair, sad eyes, angry disbelief.** **Important.** **"Black Rabbit."**

 **You know, as I was writing, I distinctly felt that I hated the mere existence of the narrator here. He's so self-centered and whiny. And then my story took a life of its own and suddenly, the narrator became A—**

 **Don't spoil it... Even tho the chapter title technically did...**

 **MEL NEEDS _YOU_ TO GIVE HER PROMPTS!**

 **No, seriously. I'm running on an empty tank here.**

 **[1] Wagadama: Self-fool (cross of self-indulgence and fool)**

 **[2] Kurusagi: Black Rabbit**

 **Not adding a satisfactory ending... because I can. Let your imagination run wild on that.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

"Oh my gosh, isn't it exciting?" Squeals the fellow student beside you. You stare at her incredulously. It's three in the morning, you're on a field trip... And this girl thinks it's exciting.

Is she kidding? Even a Shin'ô Academy cadet could probably slaughter a high-level Hollow with a swipe! Some of your classmates even know their zanpaku-tô's names! If that's all it takes, Bankai must be a cinch!

Captain Kurosaki, the legendary Winter War hero, clearly shares your sentiments, clinging to the hilt of his zanpaku-tô to keep himself from falling asleep. "Coffee. I need coffee. Or tea. Hell, even tea would be great. Ken, you didn't go on your coffee run this morning, did you?"

Lieutenant Kaneki shakes his head as he curtly tells off a few notorious troublemakers that instantly fall under the weight of a Court Guard Squad member.

"Why, you little—would it have killed you to get some caffeine?"

The lieutenant of the Fifth's tone is perfectly serene as he says, "Ichigo, I'm starving, it's been two months and a half, and I want to kill myself. Shut up before you lose that finger that I tried to go at last time."

Captain Kurosaki seems to be on the verge of saying something, but at Lieutenant Kaneki's death glare, he pales and his jaw snaps shut with an audible _click_.

You shake your head. Apparently the rumors about some captains being controlled by their lieutenants are true. Pathetic.

Captain Kurosaki's face falls into a scowl and nearly half the class flinches, though you're not among them. "Alright, brats!" He barks, and you blink. With his tone and the confident, ramrod-straight spine, one would think _he_ would be the one ordering Lieutenant Kaneki around, not vice versa.

"Y'know, I had him pegged for the deskwork type," whispers your friend, a boy whose zanpaku-tô is named Wagadama **[1]**. "But he's got a pretty tight leash on Kurosaki... Looks like his arm is better for more than just pushing paper."

"Dude, don't you know Lieutenant Kaneki's reputation?" hisses a third, a tomboyish girl with a crew cut, who must have been a military solider in life. "He once put down a huge rebellion in Hueco Mundo single-handed!"

"That's a lotta bull," says your friend, Tadashi, dismissively. "Everybody says he had help, and I saw Ukitake pretty much carrying him in. I thought he was dead for a second."

"Show respect," murmurs a fourth, a friend of crew-cut Nami's, with long raven hair and slate-gray eyes. A pretty girl, by all means, but utterly unapproachable by status. "Kurosaki-dono and Kaneki-dono are two of the strongest Captain-and-Lieutenant duos since Hitsugaya-dono with Matsumoto-dono and Byakuya-nii with Abarai-dono."

"You're a Kuchiki dog, Miko," mutters Tadashi. "You think everyone's beneath you."

Kuchiki Miko snorts. Apparently Captain Kuchiki is not close family.

"Shut up, you four over there!" shouts Captain Kurosaki. You refuse to jump, while your friend flinches, Nami squeaks, and Miko's gray eyes slide closed, as though warding off a headache. "I'm talking!"

Lieutenant Kaneki shoots a look at Captain Kurosaki, and the latter's lips twitch before he adds, "Field mission! You're taking out real Hollows, so I want no funny shit, okay?! One wrong move here and you actually die, and I don't want Yama-jii roasting my ass over a couple dead piss-idiot Shinigami! I already have enough of those on my free time! Capiche?!"

There's a halfhearted echo of "Capiche" and Captain Kurosaki turns, satisfied. "Good! Let's get a fucking move on!"

You lean over to snicker with Tadashi and Captain Kurosaki must see you, because he adds on, "I'm feeding all of those who do not cooperate to Ken!"

* * *

You never expected the ambush. You never expected all the rumors to be true. And most of all...

Why the hell are you so weak?!

You watch with the other open-mouthed Shin'ô students, terrified, as Captain Kurosaki and Lieutenant Kaneki leap around the trees, killing the Hollows that were lying in wait for you.

One lunges. **"Tasty, tasty, a ghoul! What a treat!"**

"Fuck you!" Captain Kurosaki spits, rushing in from the side to slice off the Hollow's mask—and getting crushed in the Hollow's hand for his troubles.

"Ichi—" The other hand comes up and swipes the lieutenant across the forest clearing you've reached.

"Oh, shit!" whimpers a voice behind you. You don't dare look to check who spoke, because now the Hollows have noticed your presence.

 **"Ooh, a whole class! One, two... twenty!"**

 **"Lovely! Is there enough to share?"**

 **"More than enough!"**

 **"Aw, poor things! All frozen in fear! Let's get them all before they run!"**

"Shit shit shit!" says Tadashi beside you, readying his zanpaku-tô, but you see his hands shaking and know he'll die before he gets a scratch on a Hollow's hide. Miko's face is contorted as she whips out her kunai, because she's a Kuchiki and she's an aristocrat and she probably is on the receiving end of several assassination attempts, and you know she always carries a pouch of the weapons, but they won't do much and you know it, because they're not spirit weapons. Nami's asauchi trembles with her fear and instantly you're aware that _Holy shit, we're so weak._

 _We're all gonna die._

Lieutenant Kaneki looks up, spitting blood from his mouth, and his eyes catch yours, and for an instant images sweep past you.

 _White hair, mist eyes, irritated concern._

 _Purple hair, sad eyes, angry disbelief._

 _Important._

 _"Black Rabbit."_

You blink, and there's blood flying everywhere. With screams. And one voice standing out from them all.

" _KEN_!"

Kaneki is standing before you, his back to you, but Hollow teeth obscure the view to his shoulders and abdomen. The Hollow, angry with the interference, cracks its jaw then bites down again, harder.

The name bursts from your mouth before you even know what you're saying. "Kaneki!"

The Hollow draws back, and Kaneki drops to his knees, and Kurosaki promptly shunpo-s up to him, his hands gripping the other's shihakushô. "Shit shit shit shit shit shit, Ken!"

Your eyes are drawn to Kaneki with a morbid fascination, and you can't help but feel horror, even though you've never known him personally—

 _You have._

You gasp, because there's a tingling sensation in both eyes, and a black-haired little girl with the ears of a hare tilts her head at you.

"Well, Black Rabbit?" asks your zanpaku-tô, Kurusagi. Her wide eyes pierce you, and there's a weird sensation at your shoulder blades, and you recognize it with a second staggering wave of memory.

"Do you remember now that someone you treasure has nearly been killed?"

"Yes," you breathe, and you mean it. "Yes."

She smiles, and her eyes flash for a moment. Kakugan. "Yes," she echoes. "Very good, Kirishima Ayato."


	19. Angel

Flowers from Hell

* * *

Angel

* * *

 **Summary** **for this chapter:** **Every color lingering on this ghost's face seemed to shout _angel_. ****But Ichigo saw the boy's haunted expression, and his jaded heart clenched.** _ **He looks so lost.**_

 **MEL NEEDS _YOU_ TO GIVE HER PROMPTS!**

 **Ken doesn't tell Ichigo that he's a ghoul. He thinks Ichigo will turn away.**

 **Ugh... Sick...**

 **Don't own Bleach or Tokyo Ghoul...**

* * *

Ichigo landed nimbly in the middle of the street. He'd just returned from his surprise visit to his family, which had gone over much better than expected. He knew that technically he was still alive; it just didn't feel that way. His human body seemed tight at the shoulders, like any moment he should jump out of his skin.

Fingers twining with his own surprised him, and he started before the corners of his eyes crinkled in wry humor. For a long time, he'd felt like he'd forgotten how to smile.

"Hi, Rasgar."

 **"Yo, King."** Rasgar leaned over, pressing their shoulders together. **"I think Sakanade's lot's o'er there somewhere."** He pointed vaguely down the road. **"Y'should say hi. I wanna see her."**

"Who, Sakanade?"

 **"Yeah. And y'wanna see Hirako, don'tcha?"** Ichigo raised his eyebrows at the Hollow, who smirked. **"Y'don't live in someone's Inner World withou' learnin' a thing or two. Y'think of Sakanade's lot as a second family."**

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." Ichigo pulled Rasgar el Cielo back into his Inner World and dashed along the street with (what was for him) a leisurely Shunpo. Rounding a corner with relative ease instead of crashing into it like he once might have, he skidded to a stop suddenly, seeing a ghost. He tilted his head; there hadn't been any murders or such around the vicinity of Karakura lately, so what gave?

He approached a little warily, because time and experience told him that innocent spirits could turn out to be raging, mindless beasts in the span of seconds. The ghost didn't seem to be feeling all that active, though, so he ventured forward. After all, Ichigo did pride himself on his peerless latent ability.

The ghost was a boy, not quite a man—on the cusp of child and adult, like Ichigo. He had a sleek, angled face that was delicate, and probably beautiful, though Ichigo couldn't speak for himself; he had a noticeable face, was all Ichigo really thought for a first impression. His eyes were a pale color, blank and stony, impossible to describe, but with a kind of sentient feeling to them, as though he could absorb everything around him. His rather neatly cut hair (and wasn't that a refreshing change from the strange hairdos Ichigo tended to encounter on a daily basis—read: Renji) was an unblemished, stark white, like the cutting edge of the moon, like a single star on an unfeeling night sky.

Every color lingering on this ghost's face seemed to shout _angel_.

But Ichigo saw the boy's haunted expression, and his jaded heart clenched.

 _He looks so lost._

 _ **Y'looked like tha' once, too, Ichi, don't'cha know?**_

 _Don't Dondochakka me._

Ichigo managed to get within three yards of this spirit without getting his head taken off, so he figured he was pretty safe, and decided to get the kid into a chatty mood. "Hey," he said cautiously.

The delicate-faced ghost didn't even blink. "I heard you stop. Don't brake so fast."

Ichigo gaped for a full second, and Rasgar's howling laughter filled his head. **_Oh, hell, King, that's cute! This kid's fuckin' adorable! He jus' totally roasted you!_**

 _Shut up, Rasgar,_ Ichigo snapped in his mind, irritated, and scowled at the boy. "Look, kid, you're a ghost, I'm a Shinigami. I'mma send you to Soul Society, capiche?"

The white-haired ghost promptly slid to his knees in the middle of the street, and Ichigo's annoyance rapidly morphed to concern. "Whoa, there. You feeling okay?"

The white-haired ghost's tone was lilting, stilted, as he said distantly, "I just wish I got to say goodbye. I wasted my last breath."

Ichigo hesitated, his conscience struggling with his sense of duty, then finally settled down beside the white-haired ghost with his legs twisted into an intricate pretzel. (Hey, it was Renji that spread the rumors about him being a stiff piece of bamboo. He was young and flexible, thank you very much.) When the white-haired ghost looked vaguely bewildered, Ichigo waved his hand to prompt him to speak. "You need to talk to someone, don't you? I'll listen, and I'll send you on your way. Can't have poor lonely bastards like you roaming the streets."

The white-haired ghost gave a breathy chuckle that was barely audible, and it kind of gave Ichigo the sad feeling that the boy didn't laugh much, if at all. "Oh, sure. I guess people do listen, after all, even if it's after I'm dead." He levelled a look at Ichigo. "It's not a pretty story."

"I'm used to the brutal kind," Ichigo shot back, and gestured. "So? Let's hear it."

And the kid spilled. He was an ordinary teenage kid till he got in an accident, and then suddenly, he was a pariah. He managed to find people who were like him, different, but then some bastard kidnapped him and tortured him, and made him a bloodthirsty killing machine. And his last words. Ichigo couldn't imagine dying in the arms of someone he loved, and instead of telling them he loved them, begging for the life of someone else. This white-haired ghost, the one with the delicate complexion, the one with the face of a fallen angel, was truly something else.

The spirit looked at him, without a single emotion in his face, carefully swept clean, and Ichigo saw him, really saw him, and recognized him for something different.

"I can leave now. I'm satisfied. Thanks." When Ichigo raised an eyebrow for clarification, the ghost quirked a soft half-smile and said, "For listening. Thanks."

Ichigo took a breath and faced the ghost with an "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

 _FWOOSH._

Ichigo sighed, standing and taking in the place where the ghost had just been and where now a jigokuchô flitted in place.

 ** _Well. Tha' was eventful. What'd y'think, King?_**

Ichigo thought for a moment, speeding off towards the Vizards' reiatsu. _What'd I think? Well..._

As Shinji grinned wider upon seeing who had come calling at this hour and ushered him into the warehouse for an emergency party, Ichigo decided, _He has a striking face._

* * *

Ichigo gaped at his new Third Seat. That white hair, those pale eyes, that face that reminded him oh-so-brutally of an angel in distress...

Kaneki Ken, face carefully devoid of emotion, clicked his heels together and said respectfully, "Third Seat Kaneki Ken reporting, sir. Is there anything to be completed at the moment?"


	20. Secret Arc I: Got a Secret

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Got a Secret

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: "We have not told them." "They must not know." " _Keep quiet about this, Kaneki Ken_."**

 **I just thought that those two kids... yeah. Can't say anything without giving anything away. GODDAMMIT!**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

It's two in the morning and Ken's practically a walking corpse.

Knocking back the dregs that have settled at the bottom of his mug, he drags his feet towards his quarters, cutting across the forest that rises between the barracks of the Fifth and his living place, shivering and adjusting his shitagi; the air's gotten crisper, nearing autumn. When the first telltale cracks of branches give away a heavy animal approaching, he sighs and his eye goes red and black. Whatever creature it is scampers away, spooked.

He's made it a habit to activate his kakugan whenever picking his way through the thick wood, because what little creatures live here know to avoid him. He doesn't need to sully Hiirokari's blade on the blood of common animals.

He kind of regrets his logic when a limb grabs him and yanks him backward. He shrieks, but the sound is muffled by the icy hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He's using up most of his meager amount of oxygen by breathing rapidly because _oh, shit, it's HIM_ _,_ and he's starting to feel faint when suddenly, the hand's gone, and he's not in the woods anymore as his surroundings rapidly shift past, and he can taste salt in the air.

He knows that taste.

It's the tang of human blood, on the lips of a ghoul's.

He can feel the crackling fire, the electricity, that raises his hair on end, knows that it's an Ukaku... But it's incomplete, and he's wondering what's going on when he's promptly dumped onto his ass on a wooden stump and a delicate hand, much smaller than his own, is skimming his shoulder.

 **"Hello, Kaneki Ken..."** The voice is sweet and high, a girl's voice, but double-toned and a hiss that goes on long after her lips have stopped moving, and instinctively, he knows _Oh, hell, it's a ghoul._

Another hand lands on his empty shoulder, but this one's different, just as small and delicate as the first's but somehow more firm, somehow more powerful. He swallows hard and parts his lips, but the new ghoul's voice, a boy's, a child's, stops him. **"Stay silent. You are tensing up; you are going to shout for help."**

The female ghoul giggles, a high, bell's chime one that Ken thinks he knows but also has never heard before. **"Oh, do not do that. It would be such a shame to lose the lieutenant of the Fifth Division."**

Ken's wide eyes dart to either side, but he can't see either of his assailants, though there's crackling at the edges of his peripheral vision that indicates kagune. He grits his teeth and grinds his hands into the wood of the stump, but quiets.

There's a smile on the boy's voice. **"Very good."**

 **"Now, understand this."** The girl's hand has left his shoulder, and the crunching of brittle leaves under a slight form's feet that makes it clear she's pacing. **"You will not tell anybody."**

The boy's hand is still firmly clamped onto Ken's shoulder, though his grip is lax. **"You may come find us later, if you wish. If you choose not to, then... well..."**

Ken freezes in place when a ghoul's face is by his, when kagune is hovering over various places where a fatal wound can be inflicted in the space of time it takes him to blink. The boy is smiling, genially, cruelly. **"You will hold your tongue. It would be such a shame to cut it out."**

The threat has diminished, the boy has left his immediate side, but Ken's still breathing rapidly, though he does have the small fragment of sense left to inquire: "How will I find you? How do I know where you will be?"

There are two disconnected chuckles, then the girl's voice, sweet, quiet, sorrowful, whispers, **"I have not given the secret to Kenpachi, nor Ikkaku, nor Yumichika."**

Ken gasps softly, in recognition, in understanding, but the boy's voice, low, vulnerable, agonized, murmurs, **"I have not given the secret to Rangiku, nor Momo, nor Jûshirô."**

Ken stares to the side. He sees short, straight pink hair and slightly tamed silver hair in a blur before there's a rustle and all that's left is the echo of their haunted voices.

 **"We have not told them."**

 **"They must not know."**

 ** _"Keep quiet about this, Kaneki Ken."_**


	21. Secret Arc II: Can You Keep It

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Can You Keep It

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: "They know now." "We have told them." _"Thank you for your cooperation, Kaneki Ken."_**

 **So, I had my last tennis lesson yesterday. I tripped backwards twice (the first time I legit went heels over head, second time I skidded a good foot) and scraped my elbow and my knee and sprained my wrist and bruised my tailbone.**

 **Today, while making ramen, I burned four of my fingers (the third, fourth, fifth, and half a palm on my left hand, and the tip of my thumb on my right hand).**

 **Ah, living the good life.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ken knows instinctively that they won't be in her office. She's never in the place, anyway, and a more serious setting is appropriate for the meeting. He knows that Rangiku will be out partying for the day and that those two will definitely be in her captain's office. Where else?

He steps in quietly and closes the door with a gentle _click_.

"Finally!"

Hitsugaya Tôshirô is scribbling madly on several stacks of paper, his silver hair much tamer than last night; Momo must have done something. His teal eyes are a little bleary, hinting at sleepless nights, but just as sharp as always, and his angled face shifts slightly as he glances up at Ken before looking back down again, disinterested.

Kusajishi Yachiru is lounging on Tôshirô's desk, one leg crossed over the other, studying her nails. When Ken enters, her wide eyes flicker up to him before scoffing and dropping her gaze.

Ken feels a little intimidated—for all their appearances are young, they _are_ professionals, and no doubt roamed the world long before he did—and he's squirming a little, trying to stay untouched by the awkward silence as the other two are, when Yachiru suddenly says, "We're not organic."

Ken stops short, and he even stops breathing. _Wait, what?_

"We're not true ghouls, we were humans." A muscle jumps in Yachiru's jaw, and as she grits her teeth and settles with glaring holes into Rangiku's innocent desk, Tôshirô swoops in the catch the monologue. "We were humans, but..."

A smile twists their strained faces. "Aizen got ahold of us."

There's no need to explain further. Ken's flesh crawls as he contemplates what that would be like, to be forced into a ghoul's life without knowing what they were or how they operated, to be shoved into a different person's skin with no warning whatsoever.

"Then, your kagune—How are you so experienced—" he's stuttering, because he is in awe of their achievement, but Yachiru emits a sweet noise akin to tinkling bells and closes her eyes. Red lines of kakugan shoot from underneath her eyelids, and her hair lifts, wreathing about her face and growing slightly longer, and her kagune stretches, ripples lazily—

"Is that a _Unique_ kagune?" asks Ken, jaw halfway across the Seireitei, staring at the Koukaku pulsating like butterfly wings, hovering a little defensively over Yachiru's shoulders. A black-to-purple Bikaku waves from her lower back, curved like twin tails and ready to punch any objects out of the way.

"Yachiru has a perfect constitution," says Tôshirô without looking up, and Yachiru preens at the compliment, despite how scientifically it was said. "The brute strength of Bikaku, and the defensive ability of Koukaku. As for me..."

Tôshirô doesn't even blink, a testament to his strength; most ghouls have to close their eyes to activate their kakugan to get used to the sudden shock of senses that overwhelm them. Clearly this isn't the case for Tôshirô, who now has two rather icicle-shaped Ukaku wings protruding from his shoulder blades and two long, kinked Rinkaku tentacles. His own kagune is a mesmerizing ice blue, glowing and pulsing as any other.

It's with a tentative hand that Ken reaches out for Tôshirô's kagune, fascinated as any other sane ghoul. To have such marvelous control in such a short amount of time...

The Ukaku flutters, a little proudly, and fans out to give Ken more room as his fingertips make contact with its surface. He smiles slightly; kagune—in addition to reiatsu—never lies. Tôshirô doesn't waver, though, and moves his shoulders a bit, shaking out his kagune.

He is completely floored by the revelation about to come.

Yachiru smiles genially, her Koukaku blooming about her small pretty face like a flower. "They know now."

Ken gapes at her for a full second, suddenly thunderstruck as what she says gets through to him. "What—"

"We have told them." Tôshirô's piercing eyes burn into Ken's wide ones. If they know, then—

"Thank you for you cooperation, Kaneki Ken."


	22. Icing

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Icing

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Ken's pretty fucked up. How can he not be?**

 **Warning: this chapter has a lot more language than usual. I was in a crappy mood so I decided to throw it into writing and _voila._ A crappy masterpiece. **

**No, seriously, lots of potty mouth. Sorry if you're really offended by this.**

 **Also, this chalter deteriorates more and more the further you read. Just a warning. I just poured nonsense into this thing.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ken's pretty fucked up. He's got a dad who he never knew and a mom who died when he was a kid and friends who eat humans to stay alive, so really, how can he not be? And Jason kidnapping him and putting a centipede in his ear? That's just shit icing on a shit cake with shit candles on top.

He knows it's not a good thing to walk around thinking vicious thoughts about what he's gonna do when he gets ahold of that motherfucker Jason, and hating the world that dropped him in a trash can and left him to turn into the gum grit on the bottom of some asshole's shoes. He's not so sure he cares, even though Hide loves him and doesn't want him to talk like that. To Ken it doesn't matter.

Ichigo understands in some twisted way, because he used to beat up idiot druggies on the streets, because he was the one who mopped up the streets of Karakura town with the face of whichever poor bastard was on his radar that day. Ken didn't do stuff like that when he was alive because he was the do-gooder, he was the perfect student, but that goddamn doctor took that away too.

Ken hates anyone who was a doctor in their past life, so he makes it a rule of thumb to avoid the Fourth as much as possible, because scars don't heal like wounds do and scars to the psyche are the worst kind.

He thinks Tôshirô might understand too, in some way, especially after the whole Kusaka incident. It was bad for all of them and had Tôshirô a shell of himself for weeks and it was only after half the Thirteen Court Guard Squads came to the Tenth and begged Rangiku to let them in and let Momo let loose her anger and her sorrow and end up slapping Tôshirô then hugging him that Tôshirô actually managed to get his shit back together.

Ken can't ever imagine being forced to kill his best friend, only to have his best friend come backand hissing threats of death to those who protected him. He thinks he'd rather die.

Hide's always lived life on the edge of sunlight, walking sunset beaches and laughter in his eyes, but he somehow gets it, Ken doesn't know _how_ but he does. Hide speaks kindly when he needs to, harshly when he needs to, knows everything and anything that Ken could possibly require, he's irrevocably part of Ken's life now, but better, they're in love, more than Ken ever let himself imagine when he was a kakuja and couldn't control himself and ended up dying for someone he never even knew.

It's nice to have someone to love.


	23. Adoration

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Adoration

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Hisana is dead. Kuchiki Byakuya still loves her. Ken introduces the man like his unconventional older brother to his so-called "boyfriend", and Byakuya can't help but contemplate.**

 **Atataka na Koe: "warm voice"**

 **Release phrase: "Call, Atataka na Koe!"**

 **I'm not giving Hide a Bankai yet. He's staying a Fourth Seat.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

His adoration for Hisana creeps up on him.

He still remembers that day, as he sat in the shade of the freshly blooming sakura trees with a dozing Hisana, and as he looks down at her face, something new was in her frail porcelain face, her long midnight lashes, her half-moon indigo eyes.

Without meaning to, Kuchiki Byakuya falls in love.

He takes her to the feast later that day. She is dressed in a long exquisite kimono embroidered with sakuras, courtesy of himself, and she catches his eye, and smiles. Enchanting. Enticing.

That smile haunts him for the next five years.

* * *

"Hello, Captain Kuchiki."

Byakuya glances to his side and spots the respectable lieutenant of the Fifth. He's sitting in the graveyard, cross-legged, with a bowl of fragrant sakuras sitting before the white marble grave that is Hisana's. He still feels a pang of grief in his heart when he looks at the cold hard stone hiding his late wife, but it is dulled, because he has finally moved on.

Judging by the look of fresh, raw pain in Kaneki's face, Byakuya can easily ascertain that the same cannot be true for the ghoul Shinigami.

"Who do you visit?" It's a prying question and Byakuya knows it, but he has his pride. He wants to know, so he will ask.

"An officer," says Kaneki, and for the first time he can't seem to hold Byakuya's gaze as he looks down. "He was... unique, I suppose."

Byakuya raises his eyebrows. The commoners are all the same to him, distinguished only by power or wealth. "How so?"

Kaneki chuckles, and explains, "We were sitting at the same table in the mess hall, and suddenly he said that it had been his long-time dream to serve in the Fifth and that he was honored. I, for my part, didn't expect him to suddenly start waxing poetic, so I asked skeptically, 'Every officer here has sworn an oath to die for our cause. How do you expect to help Ichigo among thousands of others?' And do you know what the little rascal said?"

Byakuya is absorbed, now, because Kaneki's voice has begun to waver slightly, even though the ghoul Shinigami's hands are steady. "He looked me right in the eye and said, 'Because nobody comes out of a war like that without scars.'"

Ken laughs again, a watery one this time, and continues, "And the next day, there was a field mission. It was bad, we were called out to help the Thirteenth because Lieutenant Kuchiki had fallen, and..."

Byakuya suddenly feels a swooping sense of foreboding.

"That clearing's still red. It was so bad, it was horrible, and this kid got carted back to the Fourth with nineteen others, and he died clutching my shihakushô, holding my hand, saying 'It was an honor to serve the Fifth'..."

Byakuya feels a little pity for the lieutenant staring openly at the grave before him. A child who has never known death so intimately before. A child who always thought death was the end.

But even a death god cannot stop such an unavoidable course of action.

"I will accompany you back to your barracks, Lieutenant Kaneki," says Byakuya presently, pulling the boy up by his shoulders. He was once repulsed by what was described as his cannibalistic tendencies, but this very human show has warmed him to the boy somewhat. When Kaneki gives Byakuya a dazed look, Byakuya grimaces. His mist eyes are blurry, and his expression lost enough to make him look like a child. Something in Byakuya's ice-cold heart breaks.

It's the all-too-human expression he'd put on Rukia's face so long ago.

It might be from that day on that Byakuya, filled with sympathy that people are hard-pressed to make him produce, starts calling him Ken.

* * *

"Say, Byakuya-san."

"Yes, Ken?"

"Uh..."

"Ken, if you have something you want to say, I suggest you say it. I don't favor beating around the bush."

"Um, I, uh, like guys, Byakuya-san."

"...I see."

"Byakuya-san? As in, I'm bisexual?"

"...Are you looking for any reaction in particular?"

"Maybe the imminent explosion after I say I have a mad crush on Ichigo?"

 _"What?"_

"Nonononono—Byakuya-san—Joking, I was joking— _I'm positive that the homicide of fellow captains isn't acceptable to the Kuchiki elders, Byakuya-san!"_

 _"THEY WILL HAVE TO BEND THE RULES!"_

 _"OH MY GOD NO—"_

* * *

There's a lot of shouting about nobility and the "wooing of innocent teenagers" at the Sixth Squad barracks that day.

* * *

"Byakuya-san!"

Byakuya turns to see Ken running into the Seireitei, his mist eyes bright and wide in a way Byakuya's never seen them before. He's flushed and out of breath but there's a blinding smile on his face that staggers Byakuya. _Who are you and what have you done with Ken?_

The pieces don't quite fit together until he sees the boy Ken is leading by the hand, fingers twined.

Byakuya's slate-gray eyes narrow imperceptibly.

"Byakuya-san—" Ken skids to a stop before the man like his older brother, trying to catch his breath as the other boy, with striking yellow-orange curls (and if _that_ shade isn't oh-so-horribly familiar) rubs Ken's back, waiting patiently. "B-Byakuya-san—Ichigo hel-helped me find—" And here Ken's head whips up, and tears of joy have risen, unbidden, to the previously emotionless mist eyes, adding tints of silver, black, more than monochrome, and streaking it with new hues. " _It's Hide, Byakuya-san!"_

Ah.

That's what it is.

Adoration.

* * *

Byakuya doesn't get why he despises the yellow-orange-haired boy with the laughing eyes until he's standing in a thicket of the Rukongai and Ken is screaming his name.

 _"Hide!"_

Byakuya grabs Ken's arm before he gets killed by the Arrancar that's looming over Hide, because in the end, it was going to happen, the yellow-orange-haired boy was just too soft. But then Hide's head snaps up and his eyes glow angrily like rubies; he pulls at the power stirring its head deep within his soul and he _shouts_.

 _"Call, Atataka na Koe!"_

Byakuya ducks his head, his dark hair whipping about his face as the dust flies up, characteristic of the sudden explosion of power associated with Shikai. He covers Ken, too, who's too distraught to protect himself, and his captain's haori whips about them, blocking most of the dust and debris. When the smoke clears, Byakuya hazards a glance up, and his eyes widen.

Hide's holding a metallic sword that wraps around his hand, twisting up and disappearing at the sleeve of his shihakushô. The blade itself is curved and kinked unnaturally, bent out of its usual asauchi form but shaped deliberately, looking as though it was _meant_ to be that way. One wrong move and the boy could easily cut _himself_.

But Hide whispers something under his breath, and flames swirl daintily about the sparking edges of Atataka na Koe, and Byakuya hums in approval as Ken gapes openly.

 _Perhaps not so soft as I previously thought._

* * *

Hide wakes up slowly, stirring, and his brandy-colored eyes slide open.

Byakuya is literally sitting _right there_.

He jumps and yelps, "Holy sh—" but Byakuya doesn't move a single muscle. Instead, he says, "What do you feel for Ken?"

Hide chokes on his own spit for a second. _What the_ hell?

"Uh..." he says intelligently. Byakuya waits with uncharacteristic patience while Hide tries to regain his balance, and when Hide has recovered his composure, Byakuya reiterates his question.

"Er... I, uh, I love him, Captain Kuchiki," says Hide finally, completely honestly, and watches in guarded apprehension as Byakuya's stern expression eases, and he blows out a breath.

"Good."

He rises from his seat beside Hide's hospital bed, and Hide is just about to calm down when Byakuya calls, "I want to see him happy, and if I ever see him not, I will assume immediately that the fault is upon you. Understood?"

"Byakuya- _saaan!"_ comes Ken's embarassed whine, and Hide cringes with a wholehearted "Sir!"

Nobody had told him that Ken had found himself an overprotective older brother.

* * *

 **What the hell _is_ this thing? It ran away from me...**


	24. Romantic Mishaps

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Romantic Mishaps

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Because Ken is in a committed relationship and Ichigo just wants his opinion.**

 **I'm sorry. I came up with this while I was half-asleep.**

 **I'm still laughing it's so cringeworthy. It's a full-dialogue word vomit.**

 **For clarification, Ken is bisexual and biromantic (he was attracted to Rize, remember), and Ichigo is asexual and homoromantic. If you're not comfortable with this stuff, don't read plz**

 **At the start of this drabble, Ken is 25, and Ichigo is 29. (Ghost lives ftw)**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

 **MEL NEEDS _YOU_ TO GIVE HER PROMPTS!**

* * *

 **September 22nd, 2016**

"How old were you, when you... died, Ken?"

"Me? Uh, I was... twenty-one, I think."

"Oh."

"What?"

"..."

" _What,_ Ichigo?"

"...Did you know, well... that you liked guys... and girls... before you died?"

"Yes."

"I didn't... figure this stuff out 'til after I died."

"And why are we talking about this?"

"'Cause Byakuya walked into one of the captain's meetings and I swear to God I've never gotten so red when someone addresses me."

"...Captain?"

"Yeah?"

"Byakuya-san is _so_ out of your league."

" _Ke-en!"_

"Stop whining, Ichigo. It's unbecoming."

* * *

 **November 5th, 2016**

"Ugh. Kill. Me. Now."

"I'd rather not, Ichigo. Why, what is it?"

"Byakuya's hanging around the Fifth Division barracks and I'm _dying_. It's so bad."

"Ichigo, stop it. Stop— _pining_ , or whatever what you're doing is called. Seriously."

"Well screw you, I never figured this shit out before I died and now there's way too many hot people around to ignore."

"What about co-Third Seat Inoue, then? She's rather pretty."

"...I don't really like her... _that_ way."

"...Oh. _Oh._ "

"Um, yeah. And... I don't really, like... _want_ people... like that... you know?"

"... _Oh_."

"..."

"..."

"But really. Byakuya's right there... Can you just take my paperwork, for, just, three minutes? Please?"

" _No_ , Ichigo."

* * *

 **November 17th, 2016**

"How's it going with Rasgar, Ichigo?"

"..."

"Ichigo?"

"...Fuck."

"Ichigo, what happened?"

"Zangetsu-ossan broke us up, he said it's not gonna work because he's an Inner entity, and Rasgar was so _sad_ , and I—I—ugh, _fuck_!"

"...Ichigo, tearing Division expenses apart is not going to help your mood."

" _Well, I don't know whatever the fuck else to do!"_

"God, you have a worse breakup reaction than a teenaged girl."

" _Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!"_

"Jesus. Find someone new, then, because Rasgar and you... probably weren't going to work out in the first place."

"...I know."

"Good."

* * *

 **December 25th, 2016**

"I need sake, Ichigo. Lots."

"Oh what? What now?"

"Ogidô-san turned me down..."

"Aw, poor baby, need a hug for Christmas?"

"Shut the fuck up and poor me a drink, Kurosaki."

* * *

 **February 14th, 2017**

"Happy Valentine's Day, Captain Kurosaki!"

"...Are those _construction-paper_ _hearts_ on the wall?"

"...Maybe, sir?"

"Yes, Ichigo, they are."

"Ah! Lieutenant Kaneki!"

"...And _why_ wasn't I informed of this?"

"I don't know, Ichigo. I got back and the room was a hot mess."

"Well, ya see, sir..."

"I left for _five minutes_ to go talk to Byakuya—"

"I'm setting Hiirokari on your seated-officer asses—"

" _OH MY GOD RUN!"_

* * *

 **March 31st, 2017**

"How're you and Hide doing, Ken?"

"Great! We're—we're happy, we're really, really happy. Thanks, Ichigo."

"No prob. And, hey..."

"Hmm?"

"What d'you think 'bout Kensei?"

"I'm in a committed relationship, Ichigo. You don't ask a taken partner that."

"Heh. Funny. But really, what d'you think?"

"Ichigo."

"Please?"

"Ichigo, I'm warning you..."

"I just want your opinion, Ken!"

"Oh my God..."

* * *

 **April 19th, 2017**

"You're antagonistic enough for Captain Ôtoribashi to be your boyfriend, Ichigo."

"Hell no, Ken. I learned my lesson about Rose a long time ago."

* * *

 **April 20th, 2017**

"Rose is looking at me funny."

 _-cough-_

"Ken, you're a little _shit_."

* * *

 **May 1st, 2017**

"Someone's possessive."

"...I—got punched."

"You're a lieutenant."

"They were stronger."

"On your neck?"

"..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

* * *

 **June 8th, 2017**

"Whattabout Kira?"

" _Lieutenant Kira?"_

"I, uh, I'm gonna take that as a no."

"Ichigo, are you nuts? _Lieutenant Kira?"_

"Well, what's wrong with him?

"Ichigo, do you know how many bar nights I've spent listening to Lieutenant Kira sob about Gin-san?"

"Uh..."

"Lieutenant Kira's crazy about him!"

"...Since when have you called Gin 'Gin-san'?"

"Well, since when have you called him 'Gin'?"

"Ever since he asked me out and I accepted and we went on one date before saying 'nope' and just reverting to being friends."

"Wait, Gin-san's gay?"

"Uh, no. He's asexual... er... like me. I suppose... I suppose it's nice to have a friend... who's like you."

"...Mm. Yeah. I suppose so."

* * *

 **July 15th, 2017**

"Happy birthday, Ichigo!"

"Whoa—holy sh—oh, oh, hi, guys."

"I got you chocolate bunnies, Ichigo!"

"Uh, thanks, Rukia."

"..."

"Renji? What are you hiding behind your back?"

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"'Kay..."

"I got you candles, Ichigo-san! They've got a very mild scent and are meant to help you relax!"

"Th-thanks, Hanatarô. I'm really gonna need these."

"Kurosaki-kun! Here, here! They're doughnuts!"

"Did you... make these, Inoue?"

"Of course!"

"Oi, Kurosaki."

"Ishida."

"Here. Reiatsu inhibitors. So you don't _die every time you see a Hollow_."

"Shut up."

"Hey, Ichi! What's up!"

"H-hey, Shin!"

"Here ya go!"

"Oof—oh, hey, chocolates."

"Yup! Try 'em, they're pretty good."

"Oh, wait, Ichigo—!"

"What the f—Kaneki?"

"Ugh—Ken—"

"Captain Hirako—did I mention—that my captain—is deathly allergic—to strawberries?"

- _wheezing-_

"..."

"..."

"We're taking him to the Fourth."

 _-wheezing-_

"Yes, sir."

* * *

 **September 19th, 2017**

"Hey, hey, Ken."

"Yeah?"

"I'm hooking up with Shin."

"I'm not surprised, you already have nicknames for each other and everything."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah."

* * *

 **October 31st, 2017**

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL—HOLY SHIT— **I AM GOING TO EAT YOU I SWEAR TO GOD—"**

 **"Calm your tits, Kaneki! It's jus' me!"**

 **"Fuck you, Rasgar! That's a costume to make any of my subordinates faint!"**

 **"So? 'S look like I care? It'll be funny!"**

 **"NO IT FUCKING WON'T!"**

 **"Y'WANNA FIGHT, KANEKI?!"**

 **"GET READY TO HAVE YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU, HOLLOW!"**

 **"I'D SAY TH' SAME, GHOUL!"**

- _boom_ -

* * *

 **November 10th, 2017**

"Hhrrnnghhhh."

"Good morning, Captain Kurosaki."

"Maarrggghh."

"Would you like some coffee, sir?"

"Hmmmn."

"Here you go, sir."

"..."

"Nothing to say after consuming way more than your normal alcohol intake and doing the nasty with your boyfriend, sir?"

"Keeeeeehhnn, whaaaii."

"That's what I thought, sir."

* * *

 **November 11th, 2017**

"You're the one that spiked my drink, you little bitch."

"Mm."

* * *

 **November 12th, 2017**

"You're such a lightweight, Ichigo."

"Then what the fuck are you, a heavyweight?"

"Yes."

"..."

* * *

 **November 13th, 2017**

"Who's a heavyweight now, Ken?"

"Fuck you."

"Saw Hide leaving your house looking pretty proud of himself."

"Go to hell, Kurosaki."

* * *

 **November 14th, 2017**

"That was whiskey, wasn't it?"

"Scotch?"

"Mm-hmm. Where'd you get that in Soul Society?"

"I have my ways."

"Right."

* * *

 **December 25th, 2017**

"..."

"Somethin' relaxin' 'bout starin' into th' fire, ain't there, Kaneki?"

"I suppose so, Hirako-san."

"Yup, Shin."

"Hirako-san really has Kurosaki-san wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?"

"Uh-huh."

"Pot callin' the kettle black, Nagachika."

"Hey, Hirako-san, at least I'm not sadistic."

"Ouch, Nagachika, that kinda stung."

* * *

 **March 31st, 2018**

"OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!"

"Holy shit, what what what?! Why are you— _what the fuck, this room's decimated!_ "

"He said yes! Oh my God he said yes!"

"Who?! What?!"

" _Hide's gonna marry me, Ichigo!_ "

"... _That's great!"_

 _"Hell yes!"_

"There's a bar down the street. Grab Hide and I'll meet you there with Shin."

"Okay. And hey, Ichi?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks."

"No prob, Ken."


	25. I Won't Break

Flowers From Hell

* * *

I Won't Break

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: "I won't break." "Really? Because sometimes I look at you, and I don't see the famous captain of the Fifth, or the hero of the Winter War, I see a kid who was younger than me when he died, and I know that I can reach out and snap you in half. But I don't."**

 **MEL NEEDS _YOU_ TO GIVE HER PROMPTS!**

 **C'mon guys. Don't leave me hanging like I did with you.**

 **I'm sorry I'm sick. I get sick too easy. I'm sick in like half of these chapters goddammit. Give me ideas. Feed me plot bunnies and I shall feast upon their soul.**

 **Did I say I needed IDEAS? Hmm, don't think so.**

 **I NEED INSPIRATION. FEED ME IDEAS.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ichigo stumbles into the bathroom and stares into the mirror. A pale stranger stares back, with dark circles under their eyes. He looks down, wordlessly, then proceeds to run his hand beneath the tap water, waiting for it to turn cold.

"I thought you'd be here."

Ichigo doesn't whip around like he normally would; he can't muster the energy, not on a night like this, not after a mission like that. Instead, he pointedly gazes at the water and watches in morbid fascination as the clear liquid turns pinkish.

Ken's right next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and he gently presses a hand to Ichigo's elbow, as though expecting the man to drop dead from one push. As it is, Ichigo just tilts, like a cardboard cutout, and Ken has to catch him. "Whoa... whoa there, Ichigo, keep your shit together."

That doesn't help at all. "Go away."

His voice isn't his. It's too flat, too even, robotic, lacking any emotion that would have colored his tone. Ken cringes.

"Ichigo. Come on. Let's go. Everyone's worried."

The mission was a catastrophe. They lost several members, and Shinji—who would have been here instead of Ken—has been critically wounded. Ichigo was the point man and he's drowning in guilt right now, and it's up to Ken to pull him back to shore, to ground him, to anchor him.

Ken sighs heavily through his nose and gets a grip on Ichigo's bloodstained shihakushô, pushing aside the fact that the blood isn't Ichigo's with a practiced ease honed from years of cannibalistic friends and family. "Ichigo—"

 _"No."_ Ichigo's voice isn't flat anymore, it's poison, which, to Ken, is less unsettling—Ichigo's voice should always have color, have weight—but he can tell from the turbulent, shifting reiatsu behind him that Third Seat Hinamori and the other seated officers waiting for them outside of the bathroom beg to differ. He wrenches his arm from Ken's hands with a halfhearted effort and hisses, "You don't touch me—I—I'm not, I don't want to—" he struggles with an invisible force for a moment before settling with a heavy, decisive "I won't break."

This pushes Ken like nothing else so far has, his friend saying such damning words about himself without thinking about those around him. The ghoul Shinigami bares his teeth into a snarl and snatches Ichigo by the collar of his reddened shitagi, pinning him to the wall. Hearing the crash as Zangetsu clatters to the ground, clanging against the bassinet and shutting off the water, everyone runs in, even female seated officers, alarmed by the clashing reiatsu of their two commanding officers. Third Seat Hinamori claps her hands to her face, covering her mouth and stifling a small sob, because even if she's suffered through the betrayal of her superior, whom she adored, and later when even he who amounted to her little brother stabbed her through the heart, she has never known this pain before: the pain of watching two who are supposed to be stolid falling to pieces.

"No?!" demands Ken, aware that Ichigo's windpipe is slowly crushing beneath his grip, aware that he is _hurting Ichigo_ , but he's so used to inflicting pain to humans that for once, he actually feels Rize-san's persona bleeding into his own, and for a wild, spinning moment, he wonders if this is how Ichigo feels fighting alongside Rasgar. "No?! You're not gonna break?!"

Ichigo coughs weakly, his own hands curled into fists at Ken's shihakushô, his eyes angry but helpless despite the assault.

"Really?" Ken's voice is tinging on hysteria, because _damn it, why doesn't he get it?!_ "Because sometimes I look at you, and I don't see the famous captain of the Fifth, or the hero of the Winter War, I see a kid who was younger than me when he died, and I know that I can reach out and **snap you in half."** And Ken's Rinkaku rises to the challenge, unbidden, unfolding from Ken's back almost regally, blossoming like some flower of hell, the bottom two waving lazily, preventing the horrified seated officers from interfering, while the top two drop with swift, beautiful, deadly precision, each tip placing itself directly above either side of Ichigo's torso. Third Seat Hinamori, understandingly terrified, breaks out her zanpaku-tô, memories flooding her, memories of _"YOU DID THIS"_ and _"SNAP, TOBIUME"_ and a level voice of the little brother she loved saying, _"Arrest them..."_ and piercing turquoise eyes scanning her, searching her, then an added snippet when Lieutenant Matsumoto had hesitated, _"Both of them."_

Ken's eye, suddenly blurring with tears and demonic with his kakugan, softens.

 **"But I** don't."

His kakugan retracts, his Rinkaku retreats almost as though in relief, and Ken drops Ichigo, who doesn't say a word, instead collapsing against the wall behind him, taking careful little gasps. Ken's face is contorted, as though he was the one choked and given a dressing-down.

He crouches, bracing his forearms on his knees, placing a hand on Ichigo's orange head when the latter stiffens in wariness.

"But I don't."

* * *

 **You know what I realized while writing this? I'm really, really good at writing characters going to pieces, and I really, really enjoy the emotions in such a scene, and I really, really liked writing this chapter.**

 **You know, aside from the obvious trouble I had getting this out.**

 **Also, yes, I am aware that this is super choppy. Aside from the cold, I'm suffering from the worst case of writer's block I have EVER SUFFERED. EVER. IN THE HISTORY OF—EVER.**

 **...pls i need ideas**


	26. Counting Stars

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Counting Stars

* * *

 **Summary for the chapter: "This's gonna be like a game. Ran-chan said strip poker—it's kinda like that, 'cept we go around the circle, show a scar, and talk 'bout how we got it."**

 **Shoutout to the guest who sent in a request two minutes after 'I Won't Break' was posted! You're amazing! Hugs :)**

 **Thank you to Sakamaki Suzuku for correcting a mistake in this chapter!**

 **(Also the last part about the scar Ichi has from Ken is kind of a mishmash from another prompt from ive-got-2-many-ideas and I'll make another chapter of that for ya)**

 **This turned out hopefully better than my rereading it. I cringed.**

 **Heya! MEL NEEDS YOU TO GIVE HER PROMPTS!**

 **Still. Seriously. Because although the guest is amazing and props to them, I'm losing it. I have like ten drafts for other stories in my notes right now and all of them are half-finished and/or disgraceful.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

 **Oh, hey, I don't own the chapter title, either! I literally own nothing except for the content of this chapter and the rights to this story!**

 ***mumbles quietly* And we'll be, we'll be counting stars...**

 ***whispers* Counting Stars is by OneRepublic**

* * *

"We all suf-suffish-suffishently-sufficiently drunk?" slurs Rangiku, raising her cup in a silent permission for everyone else to raise their own in a somewhat unanimous and highly masculine "Osu!" The more ladylike ladies who tagged along to Rangiku's underground party giggle tipsily and wave their dainty wineglasses around, spilling generous quantities in the process. Soi Fon is swaying nauseatingly in time to the grandfather clock in the corner, having gotten wasted the fastest (she'd simply been imitating Yoruichi, who'd made a beeline for the strongest drink Rangiku had stocked[1], and had taken a single whiff before passing out). Yoruichi is laughing uproariously, nowhere near drunk, casually swirling a simple glass filled with shāojiǔ in one hand.

"Hey hey... Hey!" calls Renji, his voice seemingly amplified after one highball. "Ran-chan we should..." he hiccups discordantly, "we should play a gaaaame."

Rangiku leads a round of dissonant cheers, saying, "Great idea, Ren-Ren! How's strip poker doing it for yah?"

Several men who were already beet red with intoxication bust out nosebleeds, and Gin cleans them up, somehow completely sober even after a couple cups of shôchû.

Shinji interrupts the scattered enthusiasm with a sake-soaked "Whooaaa... Hold on, I got a better game." Ignoring Ichigo's frantic hand motions signaling him to _get the fuck off that stage_ , he declares, "This's gonna be like an actual game. Ran-chan said strip poker—it's kinda like that, 'cept we go around the circle, show a scar, and talk 'bout how we got it."

There's a solemn, approving silence, and people—drunk and sober, old and young, drag themselves to the center of the dimly lit room that holds the captivating fragrance of night lilies, and make a sad attempt at a circle. It satisfies Shinji, though, who sits down at the head of the circle and nearly on poor Shûhei, who barely rolls to safety in time. Now somehow comfortable on the uncomfortable wooden floor (Rangiku produces cushions and pillows to sit on), Shinji clears his throat, a clear show of _shut up and listen to me_.

The hubbub quiets.

"'Kay, I'mma little rusty, 'cause I played this with the other Vizards back when we first got kicked out, but it lost its taste after a decade or so since we were literally recyclin' scars." Shinji struggles with his shitagi and kosode for moment, allowing an awkward silence to slip by, then gives up and sticks out his chest to Ichigo, whose amber eyes soften, and he undoes the hakama-himo and the kosode with swift movements and deft fingers (someone whistles, drunkenly impressed, and mutters, "No wonder you want him in the sack, Captain Hirako"). Distraction now gone, Shinji displays his bare chest for all to see and taps a grotesque burn mark running from the bottom of his neck over his collarbone to the middle of his chest. He sticks his chin out proudly and says, "This here burn's from my first Hollow ever. Nancy-assed bastard." Others lean in in interest as Shinji continues, "I went in for the kill and BAM!" He raps a knuckle against the burn impressively. "Uh-huh."

There's a long pause, then Ichigo says plaintively, "I can't imagine a little Shin trying to kill a bit-part Hollow," and Ken responds, "I can imagine Hirako-san trying to kill an insignificant Hollow. I don't know which is worse."

After some hearty laughter, it's Ragiku's turn. She smiles enchantingly, her beauty only made more appealing by the blush across her rosy cheeks, and jerks her kosode to the side, resulting in her side being exposed rather than her generous cleavage. There's still plenty of sideboob to cause more nosebleeds, but the attention goes to the obvious sword scar on her otherwise flawless side, still pinkish, meaning it's relatively new on the spectrum, maybe a year or two. She tugs her kosode back to its usual extreme angle and says with inebriated pride, "That's the sword mark Gin gave me, the pig!" Her pale blue eyes grow slightly downcast. "He scared me. He never does come back."

Several accusing glances shoot towards the ex-captain, but Gin's unwavering smile makes them back off. Nobody sees Gin's smile waver and his pale fingers touching his chest, right over his heart.

Renji, properly wasted, taps his left side without stripping and says in a disoriented voice, "Scar tha' Captain Kuchiki gave me. P-pretty prou' o' it... shows tha' he sees me as an equal."

Ragiku whistled and said, "I knew... I knew that Ren-Ren had a crush on Captain Kuchiki," ignoring Renji's sudden spluttering and hasty denials. "Seriously, all that talk 'bout catchin' up to him... Kuchiki bein' th' moon or whatever sentimental crap he was goin' on 'bout..."

There's some murmured agreement and a loud shriek of laughter, then all eyes go to Soi Fon, gazes interested, because no one's seen the strict Secret Tactics Captain so... not-in-control (besides Yoruichi).

Soi Fon tips to the side as she shifts her collar, exposing an elaborate Hômonka on her collarbone, tattooed like poison ink over the exposed part of her chest and near her neck, so that even in standard Secret Tactics leader uniform, only the smallest point of the Hômonka would be revealed. She says, her usually professional voice slurred and tipsy, "This is something... tha' I gave myself... after Yoruichi-sama went... put it on so that it I wouldn't forget and if the right time comes..." Suzumebachi hovers close to her collarbone, at the center of her Hômonka, and Yoruichi's just there, faster than anyone can blink, her dark hand gently removing the golden Shikai from Soi Fon's neck. "Soi Fon, I swear... I'm never letting you drink again," her voice exasperated but amused.

Ken, conservative, simply undoes his hakama-himo and shows only his carved stomach, where a delicate incision lies. He swallows hard and says quietly, "That is the mark of the surgery that made me into a ghoul."

There is a moment of quiet silence held for the dead Kaneki Ken that died the night Kamishiro Rize did, instead birthing this hardhearted killer.

Finally, it's Ichigo's turn, the last one. People shift in eagerly to hear the thrilling tale Ichigo will surely offer—but Ichigo's movements are suddenly stiff and robotic. He shifts aside his kosode and shitagi to reveal his bare chest; several smashed women who don't understand how to read atmosphere wolf-whistle, giggle, and throw appreciative looks at him; Shinji silently bites his lip, his hand on Ichigo's shoulder.

Ichigo says, his voice flat and small and somewhere far, far away, "This is the scar that Aizen Sôsuke gave me."

A long line lies from one side of his stomach to the other, showing where he was once cut in half like a slice of lunch meat. "This is the first scar he ever gave me. The one meant to spur on his master plan of creating a Shinigami that could rival him in power and battlefield finesse."

Ichigo tilts his head back, drinking in the quiet atmosphere. "His plan was never to come out unscathed. If I couldn't oppose him, he would have condemned himself to death eventually. He would have grown bored with the endless groveling, the monotony of having no one to be able to stand against him or have the defiance to. In some strange way, really..." Ichigo's mouth twists into a bitter smile. "The man took his own life, and left me to suffer even after."

Shinji's knuckles are white as he clutches Ichigo's shihakushô, and Rangiku has her thumbnail at her teeth, eyes full of quiet empathy. Ken, however, is not staring openmouthed at the scar that could have shredded Ichigo like a paper plate; he's eyeing Ichigo's shoulder, where the beginnings of a starburst scar peeks out from the shitagi. He is the only one that has seen the teeth marks, the indentation, the blood that flowed from it after it was given.

He doesn't say a word.

* * *

It's early in the morning when the partygoers retreat.

Ichigo doesn't tell anyone, not even Shinji, about the scar on his neck to his shoulder, the teeth marks of a ghoul.

No one needs to know.

* * *

 **[1] Because Yoruichi's just badass that way; also I used shāojiǔ (a million thank yous to Sakamaki Suzuku for the correction) A: because it's originally an alcoholic drink from China and would be quick shipping and easy to access (I'm horribly sorry if this offends you and I seem racist, I'm used to being nonchalant about this because I'm Asian myself), and I would have used shôchû but it wasn't alcoholic enough; and B: because it contained a generous alcohol percentage but not enough to, like, you know... Kill her and her iron stomach. I imagine her little girlfriend Soi Fon took one sip of, like, vodka (whose percentage is nowhere near báijiǔ, lemme tell ya) and was down for the count.**

 **I did a ton of alcohol research for this, and even compared the alcohols to popular alcoholic drinks in current Japan. What Renji drank—a highball—is known as a whiskey highball, which mainly consists of whiskey and soda water. Gin's drinks of shôchû are distilled spirit commonly made from rice, sweet potatoes, wheat, and/or sugar cane.**

 **Is it a little choppy? Sorry... I'm distracted. I kinda wanted to send this out 'cause I got a waterfall of prompts, enough for me to actually be picky for once. Well, beggars can't be choosers, and all the ideas sent in were great! Thanks, guys!**


	27. Idiotic

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Idiotic

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Sometimes Ken kind of sits back and studies how idiotic his captain is. And sometimes T** **ôshir** **ô kind of helps him out.**

 **GUYS**

 **GUYS HOLY SHIT**

 **BLEACH THE MANGA IS DRAWING TO A CLOSE**

 **NO NO NOOOOO D:**

 **FAHK WHAT'LL I DO WITH MY LIFE NOW**

 **I've got a bit of a motivational block going on guys in case you can't tell :)**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ken brushes in his signature at the bottom of a request for more hot water at the women's quarters for the Fifth Division and sighs, lacing his fingers thoughtfully around his mug of coffee—which is cold, now, and subsequently disgusting. Ichigo had torn off as soon as his paperwork was complete, no doubt searching for a friend to spar with or a thug to "set straight".

Well, fine by him, so long as he doesn't come back whining.

A rustle of spirit cloth by the door notifies him to a presence, and he looks up to see Tôshirô lounging in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression petulant. Ken rolls his eyes and gestures him in with a "Come in, Tôshirô-kun. Don't creep in the doorway like that."

Tôshirô scowls even as he leans with his back against Ken's desk like he tends to do. "I'm not _creeping_ , Kaneki, don't be an idiot."

Ken mocks an offended gasp, clutching his chest. "Why, Tôshirô-kun, how could you! The idiot is my captain, don't lump me in with him!"

Tôshirô snorts but jumps up to sit on Ken's desk, crossing his legs and tucking a slender hand beneath his chin. Ken ducks down to retrieve his brush, which was dropped during his theatrics, and the two settle into comfortable silence for about three minutes until suddenly Tôshirô declares, "I'm filing damage reports against the Fifth, by the way."

Ken spews out the mouthful of cold coffee he'd drunk and splutters, "What the—Tôshirô-kun!"

"Your captain deigned to visit our Division, then proceeded to pick a fight with a disrespectful unseated officer who was shaming Matsumoto for her..." Tôshirô coughed delicately, but didn't turn red, an impressive feat compared to Ken's suddenly crimson complexion, " _generous_... bosom. Kurosaki then found it necessary to put him and nine bystanders in the Fourth, and blow a hole through a wall in my office."

Ken groans and runs a hand over his face. "Is this what he meant when he said he was 'taking a little stroll'? Are you kidding?"

Tôshirô grins victoriously. "I assure you, Kaneki, there is no jest whatsoever in my words. In fact, I had Matsumoto put him in custody in our Division, though no doubt she made him feel right at home."

"Aw, hell, Tôshirô-kun..."

"Yes, that stack of paperwork will be about double the size it is now. I _am_ a harsh manager."

"Tôshirô-kun, _please_..."

"You can kill your captain later, Kaneki."

* * *

Ichigo is checked into the Fourth later that afternoon dripping blood everywhere and a sullen expression, not unlike a petulant child. Isane calmly pushes him into the room opposite of the several officers of the Tenth he hospitalized.


	28. Can't Help Loving You

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Can't Help Loving You

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: There were some days when Tôshirô just couldn't _stand_ him. **

**Whoa! ∑(ﾟДﾟ) it's a third-person past-tense chapter! Holy shit!**

 **I think this fanfic is old enough for AU chapters! You guys can ask for different AU situations! I'll pick a lucky few for the next few chapters! It's not first-come first-serve, so there's no rush! (I'm sorry about the slow updates, my words are coming slow on paper lately.)**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

There were some days when Tôshirô couldn't _stand_ him.

Gin was a real ass, stringing along poor Izuru like he did when he knew that Izuru's heart had been mercilessly broken by him too many times already, but that was really all too hypocritical of Tôshirô, seeing as he was getting strung along just as easily as Izuru.

Rangiku got it, she really did. She was like his sister, and knew what kind of man he was from the beginning. She pitied Izuru, just a little, for falling for someone like Gin, but when it was her captain, her baby...

Even she couldn't deny it. That stung a little, especially for Momo, Tôshirô's older sister, and maybe Yachiru, too, Tôshirô's fellow _experiment_ , because they all knew, in the end, Gin would step all over Tôshirô's heart without a second thought, just like he did Izuru.

It hurt the most for Tôshirô, really, seeing as he was the one madly, deeply, passionately in love, and it had everyone wincing if they were lucky enough to catch Tôshirô looking at Gin while his guard was down, and the stricken look in his jeweled turquoise eyes where hard to bear enough for everyone else.

* * *

Ichigo wrapped an arm around Tôshirô's small shoulders, offering a cup of fragrant tea in his other hand. Ken, Rangiku, and Momo were all poised around the corner, ready to swoop in at any provocation, and Yachiru watching undetected from a nearby rooftop.

Tôshirô's eyes were glassy as they caught the soft creamy amber glow of the blazing sunset. His hands were shaking when he took the cup, and Ichigo's hand followed his in case Tôshirô lost his grip.

There was a long silence save for the sipping of tea, but just as Ichigo was about to say something, maybe along the lines of "Are you okay, Tôshirô" or "You can tell me anything", Tôshirô said harshly, "I _hate_ him."

Ichigo looked down at Tôshirô in slight surprise, because those words were so emotional, even for Tôshirô, because of the spiraling anguish and desperate rage in his voice and his face, filling it with a heart-wrenching expression.

"Oh, Tôshirô." He squeezed Tôshirô with one arm, dropping his hand gently in his silver-white hair, golden in the sunset—a couple decades dead had gifted him with basic empathic skills. His voice was just as pained when he whispered, "You don't hate him."

"I _do_ ," Tôshirô said stubbornly, hatred visible in the distressed lines of his face as he screwed his eyes shut, shimmering blue ice shattered by the blizzard ruining him from within. "I hate him."

Ichigo bit his lip. This kind of denial was going to wreck Tôshirô, maybe beyond repair, and Ichigo knew the kind like Tôshirô—they loved one person forever, no matter what, but this kind of love was unbearably painful, and no matter how strong the kid was, Ichigo had no doubt that this was going to break him.

The shadow that fell over them, blocking out the sun, made Ichigo look up, then take a sharp breath.

He stood suddenly enough that Tôshirô glanced up just as sharply, but Yachiru was _there,_ her kagune fluttering in the sunlight, her Koukaku wrapping around her and Tôshirô, her small hand gently covering Tôshirô's eyes. Ken and Momo had both risen from their respective hiding spots, Ken's Rinkaku waving as though in response to Yachiru's, Momo with her hand at Tobiume's intricate hilt.

Rangiku reacted last, and she strode over to the intruder and gave him a flat stare.

Her wonderful brother.

Her wonderfully horrible brother.

"Gin," she whispered, and Tôshirô shifted at the name, his reiatsu dropping the temperature by nearly ten degrees.

Gin's piercing eyes were fixated upon Tôshirô. He wasn't smiling. "I wanna talk," he said quietly, and Momo's pretty little face crumpled in anger.

"You don't have the right," she hissed, and both Ken and Ichigo stared at their Third Seat with some shock. They'd never heard the former Fifth Division lieutenant speak with such venomous tones.

Gin gazed back levelly. "We need ta talk, Shiro-chan and I. It needs ta be said."

Tôshirô was quickly growing restless, his Ukaku and Rinkaku wandering anxiously, his unsteady reins on his reiatsu making the area grow slowly colder, the temperature dropping steadily. The tension on the threshold of Tôshirô's quarters spiked.

It was Ichigo who said heavily, "Get on with it, Gin."

Tôshirô almost leaped from Yachiru's kagune, and crashed bodily into Gin, and everyone sucked in a breath as Tôshirô and Gin gazed at each other.

It was Tôshirô who moved first, gripping the sleeves of Gin's shihakushô and staring at Gin with fiery intensity, though that intensity was lost in his words. "I..."

Gin, clearly not intending to speak in front of his sister, Tôshirô's sister, the Eleventh's lieutenant, and the Fifth's captain and lieutenant, literally scooped Tôshirô up, bridal-style, and shunpoed away. Ichigo squawked indignantly, but Gin was already long gone, and he had to satisfy himself with a shout of "Don't you fucking dare hurt him!"

Ichigo wasn't sure he imagined Gin's whisper of "I would never."

* * *

They found Gin and Tôshirô near the walls enclosing the Rukongai later that night, Tôshirô's head pillowed in the crook of Gin's arm, Gin pointing at different constellations and labeling them, and Tôshirô quietly, reverently, talking about the stories behind each star.

They could all see the adoration in Tôshirô's eyes.

They could all see Gin's gentle smile.

They let them be.

* * *

 **Aw, poor Tôshirô's having an identity crisis.**

 **Yes, that is not-too-subtle Tôshirô x Gin you're smelling. I'm cooking an unacceptable amount of it. Would you like some?**

 **But to be real, the way I see it, Gin really does care for Tôshirô, because Rangiku's more of a sister to him than anything. Tôshirô hates that he likes Gin and hates Gin for making him like him (because lezbehonest, wouldn't you be a little pissed-off at your crush if your crush was aware and strung you along but you can't fucking help but love him/her?).**

 **I'm sorry but not sorry**


	29. Salt in the Wound

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Salt in the Wound

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: "You smile in your sleep, too. You were smiling when my captain came in here for you, every day, diligently, twice a day sometimes if he could make it, and you, you selfish bastard, after making him hurt and cry and bleed, you didn't make a single damn sign that you could hear him."**

 **The Gin x Tôshirô thing? Oh yeah. That's real now. Patented Ginshirô (TM) for everyone**

 **Gin=like the shittiest bf ever but Tôshirô=the patience of an angel**

 **That pretty much sums up their relationship**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Gin wakes up to pins and needles and a pounding headache. He manages one strained sigh before a voluptuous figure is looming over him, and he stares up inquisitively at the form.

"You ass," his sister hisses.

Gin blinks, surprised by the anger lacing her words. "Excusez-moi, Ran-chan," he says, then winces when the words come out harsher than they should, leaving his throat raw and his wounds throbbing—oh, and there it is, he remembers what happened. Aizen, the rat-bastard, he's what happened, and—

Oh. _Oh._

"Shiro-chan," he whispers, without thinking, and Rangiku's lips curve downward in disapproval.

"That's right," she says, haughtily. "That's right. My captain came here every day after you were admitted, crying over you, cursing you... Hell, I even think I heard him pray once." Gin's eyes widen imperceptibly—Tôshirô was never like that, he was calm, collected, and above all else, he believed that no higher deity would take your hand and help you; you had to help yourself, or you'd be lost in this dog-eat-dog world...

Has he shattered even Tôshirô's stolid beliefs in life?

"You smile too much," Rangiku adds as an afterthought, and the smile that Gin was about to give drops like water off his face. "You smile in your sleep, too. You were smiling when my captain came in here for you, every day, diligently, twice a day sometimes if he could make it, and you, you selfish bastard, after making him hurt and cry and bleed, you didn't make a single damn sign that you could hear him."

Gin opens his mouth, then closes it. There are too many things, and not enough things, to be said in this one moment. He ruins it, as he usually does, by not saying or doing anything, and judging by Rangiku's disappointed exhale, she expected it.

"Go." She waves her hand at him almost dismissively, and when he gives her a confused look (which for him is a miracle in itself), she makes the motion again, more violently this time. " _Go_ , I said! Go see him! Shoo!"

Gin thuds out of the cot lacking his usual grace, and winces when the impact jars him. For a second, there is pained sympathy in Ragiku's sky-blue eyes, filled with silent empathy for her suffering superior, a throbbing heartache for her hurting brother, and rage at the world that bent them all into shapes like this. Then it's gone and her expression is hard and unyielding as she makes to bodily wrestle Gin out of his hospital room.

* * *

Gin lingers at the doorway for a moment, his reiatsu wrangled into concealment. Tôshirô's hard at work, as per usual, his posture horrendous and his eyes narrowed in concentration, except there's a small difference from before, a kind of distress in the lines of his pale face and anguish in his curved, hunched shoulders that wasn't there before.

His little Shiro-chan. Oh, how he's changed.

There's a little shifting, rustling sound as Gin winces again when his wounds give a particularly harsh sting, and Tôshirô's senses must have gotten much better, because his turquoise eyes snap up, then widen. He drops the brush he's holding and stands suddenly, his eyes wide with sudden hope, his hands trembling, and Gin notes absently that during his four- or five-month coma, Tôshirô has gotten taller, not by much but just a little bit, enough so that the highest tip of the tallest spike nestled atop his silver head is just at Gin's sloping shoulder. (He files this away for later use, perhaps teasing.)

He's changed his hairstyle, too, and he looks older than the kid he used to be, he looks a little more like teenager than child.

That teenager is currently staring into Gin's eyes, his expression carefully guarded. Gin is debating on whether or not to retreat when Tôshirô's eyes open and he gives Gin The Look that prompts him to sweep the smaller right off his feet into a bridal carry, forehead to forehead, Gin smiling genuinely for once and Tôshirô laughing, actually laughing.

Rangiku is literally there three seconds later, her hair flying every which way, ash-blue eyes wide upon hearing her captain's laugh that hasn't made an appearance in nearly a year now. She smiles in relief, then that smile quickly twists into a wicked grin as she calls, "If you're going to fuck in the office, please inform me first!"

Tôshirô immediately clambers up onto Gin's shoulder nimbly, gracefully, like he's done a thousand times, perching on it like a songbird on a branch, to verbally spar with his buxom lieutenant, but this time careful to avoid Gin's stinging wounds (because of course Tôshirô would have noticed that Gin was flinching).

If Rangiku's laugh is heartier than it had been in decades, and Gin's grin is wider and more sincere in intention, and Tôshirô's wide blue-green eyes are filled with glittering laughter, no one makes a comment.

It's the moment that counts.


	30. Faint Illumination

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Faint Illumination (of a Soul Reaper's Silhouette)

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: "Walk, soldier."**

 **Why yes, I have changed "shinigami" to "soul reaper". Thanks for noticing!**

 **I know that this chapter isn't all that special, considering that it's FFH's birthday, but I have something REAL special for the (hopefully) 100th chapter (or shocking, in the very least), with this chapter being a buildup to the 99th—100th chap.** **That said, I'm really pathetic. 30 chapters in a year? Good God!**

 ***Curls up in fetal position and proceeds to sob***

 **I hereby swear to write a chapter on every weekend. Saturday, probably, though I may on Sundays. I feel horrid for leaving everyone hanging for months on end.**

* * *

"I do not like you," I say to him. It's the bluntest I have been in years, ever since my captain died and I took his place. I still see his shadow sometimes, white hair and wasting figure and level voice saying, _"What of his honor?"_

"I know," he says back, and the quiet agony in his misty eyes silences me.

Soul Society fell easily to their power, and we fought back only with death and the sheer desperate hope that things would be better if we won. We did win, with that ridiculous slender hope, but not without heavy costs. Blood flowed like a river bursting through a dam. Eyes wrought tears as though there was no end to the storm. It was hell and we all remember it.

Even the dead have their feelings.

But we, hatred and fury and overwhelming _power_ , broke through, and we exterminated them all like the wretched vermin they were. The hero that should have dealt the final blow wasn't there, anymore, because we watched him fall with screams of denial, so I helped eradicate the despicable species with a thousand others that loved him like I did. The hero's little Quincy friend? Traitor, murderer, unforgivable? We ruined him too, killed his bloodline and his loves and watched with vindictive pleasure as he lost his puny life.

In the end, it was all too easy. We all learned to hate and to kill. Nobody remembers how to forgive and how to love. No one wants to love back anymore, not after that.

He tosses back his cup of tea as though it were alcohol and stands, his chair grinding loudly against the ravaged wooden floor. Soul Society is nothing but wreckage, and we are only outside of the range of the living dead because we wanted to breathe again.

The open ceiling gapes like the maw of a beast and I glower at it. Of course, nothing is safe from my cold fury anymore, not after I lost everyone, but he is mostly the center of it, even if he did nothing to deserve my wrath.

"Stop glaring." He pokes me with the end of his zanpaku-tô, which is unsheathed. "It is unbecoming." His eyes soften slightly—only slightly, because softness isn't appreciated. "Respect the souls that lay here."

I spit at the ground. "I do not respect any of them. They died here like cowards and we had to fight to defend their honor. What honor? They had none to perish as they did and leave the burden heavier on those who kept at war."

"Captain." His voice is sharper. "Still your anger."

His tone puts me back in line, but I scowl anyway. What a voice to use against the most beautiful zanpaku-tô in Soul Society, with the ability to grant a lovely and painful death.

Then again, he wields the zanpaku-tô filled with the most hatred in Soul Society, sharpened and whittled with the violent acrimony of the dead that he swore to avenge. I fear, sometimes, that he is beyond repair, which is ridiculous because aren't we all beyond repair, the Central 46's precious little puppets' strings clipped and given life to hate them.

Three days after the war ended and the second mass genocide, all of Central 46 made a surprise appearance after having holed up in their cozy chamber for the entire decade that we fought tooth and claw, and congratulated our weary eyes and aching hearts with a cheerful "Good job on getting rid of the vermin, you of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. As you were. We will hold a celebratory party for the living."

What disrescept to show towards the people who preserved their lily-white hands. We slaughtered them all on the spot, fed up with their tyranny and uncaring of their screams.

There is no authority among warriors. We were never going to be their toy soldiers again after all that we saw and went through.

"Rukia-chan."

I toss my head and answer the incoming call. "You called, Nemu?"

The Twelfth Division Captain makes a small sound of affirmation. "Yes. Tôshirô-kun wishes an audience. I... think he needs Ichimaru-san."

I bite my lip. Captain Ichimaru is dead and Captain Hitsugaya is so far gone because of it that he might as well be dead, too. Lieutenant Hinamori, Lieutenant Matsumoto, Captain Kyôraku, Captain Ukitake, Lieutenant Ise... Captain Kurosaki...

The Captain-Commander folds his hands and cracks his neck to the side, his snowy-white hair falling in a silvery curtain to his shoulders. "What are we waiting for," he says grimly, and his mist eyes flash.

"Walk, soldier."


	31. Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Hide sleeps with his arms out to his sides and his legs splayed in the most bed-hoggish display of slumber ever witnessed.**

 **I'm cheating! It's too short! I'm sorry! But shitty updates for DAYYYZZ**

 **So... HidexKaneki=too cute?**

 **I think I've been spending too much time on tumblr**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ken shifts under an iron bar of Hide's arm and briefly considers kicking him in a place where the sun doesn't shine, then just as quickly perishes the thought under the condition that that means he won't be having sex for a while, which is a depressing thought.

For the fifth time in the same night, Ken stares at the wall opposite of him and thinks, _I'm going to eat him_.

"I'm going to eat you," he says out loud, but all Hide does is snore in response. Ken elbows him in the stomach; all that's elicited is a loud groan and more snoring.

"Thou and thine indiscriminate bed-hogging, beloved," he tacks on sarcastically.

Hide grunts.

* * *

"G'morning, babe!" Hide stretches as he strides into their kitchen, his arms high above his head. He stops in his tracks when he sees Ken's expression.

"What's up?"

Ken, nursing an espresso shot (with a couple drops of alcohol—Rangiku-san's rubbing off on him) and pronounced dark circles under his eyes, glares mightily at Hide, who pales.

"Uh... sorry, babe."

"Oh yeah. You got that right."

* * *

"Oh hell!" Hide scrambles upright on their bed, which creaks ominously, his foot having nearly been taken off by something sharp, warm, and distinctly _alive_. "Oh fucking hell!"

Ken sleepily glances at him through a sheet of thick dark lashes filled with annoyance. "Relax, Hide. Just my kagune."

Hide gives Ken a horrified look."Just your _what?"_

"Just my kagune, I said. I sleep-activate it a lot." Ken turns to face the wall with a deep, indulgent sigh, hiding the amusement on his face. "Go back to sleep, Hide."

Hide spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about the blood-red tentacles that Ken can control in his sleep.

* * *

 **troll level = master**


	32. Looks Can Be Deceiving

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Looks Can Be Deceiving

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Kisuke can sometimes be too gullible for his own good.**

 **Hey, shoutout to SwordsDeath for this chapter! Huge fan of -Man and your profile pic, thx for reviewing! Their prompt was that if Ken had met Kisuke first, before Ichigo, and that Kisuke hadn't known about Ken's ghoul status until during Ichigo's training (they didn't specify but I'm fairly certain they meant before the Soul Society infiltration arc) when he offers to help out. This chapter, therefore, is non-canon, since making it canon fucks with the storyline quite a bit.**

 **Also, I'm sorry this is so late, work got piled up and shit just hit the goddamn _fan_. **

**So, here, Ken's still a ghost, but his ghoul powers still manifest. Doezzat make sense? Mmkay we're going ahead with it anyway.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Kisuke wanders Karakura a lot. He's a scientist before all else, and he knows ( _doesn't think, knows_ ) that there will always be more to discover.

Well, ten years into being exiled to the quiet town makes him slightly doubtful, but he's managed to find little tidbits here and there throughout those hundred-or-thereabouts-years, so he thinks he can manage.

And his diligence is rewarded handsomely ( _horribly_ ).

Kisuke ruffles his hair beneath his hat—he invested in them a decade or so back, he likes the air of mystery it gives him—and studies the wayward ghost he urged into his humble abode. It's a boy, maybe in his late teens or early twenties, with a shock of white hair and chiseled features that make him look like a worn Secret Tactics Shinigami. It makes Kisuke wonder, seeing as the boy looks tired, more than anything, and not the 'I'm-just-going-to-pass-out-on-my-futon-now' tired, the 'I-want-to-lay-down-and-never-wake-up-again' tired, the kind of bone-deep weariness only those who have survived death carry.

Kisuke should know. He looks like that sometimes, and so does Yoruichi, and the Vizard, too. It's a hefty weight, but they carry it gladly; it's proof, every day, that they are still alive ( _and maybe they resent it, just a little bit_ ).

The white-haired ghost isn't a soul from the Rukongai; he hasn't even gone through konsô, and Kisuke intends to keep it that way for as long as he can, never mind the fact that if he lets a Shinigami take the ghost, he won't be able to have intelligent conversation again. It's a risky endeavor on his part, because the longer Plus souls go without soul burial, their integrity grows weaker, but there's something just a little off about the white-haired spirit, which Kisuke first figures out when he asks the ghost his name.

He looks up through long black lashes and says evenly, "My name is Ken," and with his statement comes a rush of reiatsu, and Kisuke is staggered, because no spirit should retain any reiryoku from their past life...

Kisuke shrugs it off ( _he never shrugs things off_ ), installs several more cameras around the shop he has opened, and crosses his fingers.

Maybe he will learn something useful about Ken.

* * *

It's Kisuke's first evening with Ken. He's sent out Tessai and the kids for the night, judging that Ken will be more at ease without a large amount of people. He isn't ex-Secret Tactics for nothing, after all, and he judges correctly, because Ken had seemed very anxious around the children and even more so near Tessai, and the relief clinging to his skin is almost palpable as he draws near the table.

It's plainly set—just two cracked bowls of rice, some miso soup—but Ken brightens at the normality of the meal, and Kisuke is privately huffs a sigh of relief, because he just can't deal with people.

Ken's maybe halfway through the relatively quiet meal when his eyes go wide and he runs off from the table, leaving a bewildered Urahara Kisuke behind. Kisuke tracks him to the bathroom, where horrible retching noises are coming from, and Kisuke winces in sympathy before leaving, tidying up after the remains of supper.

It looks like they won't be finishing.

* * *

( _He should have known by then, parasitic spirits don't just happen, and he has known enough of them to know the circumstance that causes them._ )

* * *

Kisuke learns a thing or two easily about Ken over the next few years.

Ken can't eat without just throwing it all up again, for some unfathomable reason, and from this Kisuke has gathered that Ken's reiryoku is almost parasitic, leeching off of other peoples' reiatsu to maintain itself, a fire that requires constant attendance to continue burning. Kisuke has a sneaking suspicion that, seeing as Ken hasn't been pulling on any living being's reiatsu in the household, he is leeching off of a certain inanimate object buried into the corner of his house ( _he is attracted to the power of the crystal and he could never tell anyone, but he is seduced by the overwhelming potential paths it opens up_ ), but Kisuke can't be certain, and anyway, if Ken can keep his form with that, it's good enough.

Ken is unbelievably shy, and the first time he meets Kuchiki Rukia when she's being healed by Kisuke, he lowers his eyes and stays around the corner, just within eavesdropping distance. Rukia notices him and asks, "Is that a spirit?"

Kisuke lips move seamlessly over the lie ( _he's too used to his job, he's too good at lying, and maybe sometimes, when he doesn't lie, it seems the opposite_ ). "No, no, Kuchiki-san, he's merely one of my friends... from the other side."

Rukia looks doubtful and opens her mouth to say something, but Ken peeks around the corner at the petite Shinigami and flares his ( _inexplicable_ ) reiatsu, shutting her up, and her violet eyes are contemplative for the rest of the transaction. Kisuke sees Rukia walk over to the wall, where Ken shrinks further and further away, and ask, "Do you hurt?"

Kisuke stiffens ( _there is no way Ken's going to react well to her cold voice_ ) despite the concern mixed with conviction within Rukia's tone, and he turns with a cautioning note in his words as he warns her, "Kuchiki-san, he—"

"I never hurt."

Kisuke gapes—actually gapes, instead of faking shock—as Ken draws himself up slightly, his shoulders sloping upwards, his back straightening. "I cannot afford to hurt," he says quietly.

Kisuke winces. Rukia recoils, as though he reminds her of something, something stinging and stuffed into a corner of her mind.

She doesn't speak to Ken again.

* * *

Ichigo's first words to Ken are a bullheaded "Are you sick or something?"

Ken gives Ichigo a bewildered, doe-eye stare.

It is the day that Ichigo receives Kon. Ken tagged along with Kisuke's group to retrieve the Mod Soul, and watched as Ichigo instead fucking _bonded_ with him. As they retreated, Rukia had tossed a furtive look at Ken over her sloping, noble shoulder, and Ichigo had noticed him. He'd strolled over with that untamed-carnivore grace he always wore and began to talk.

Kisuke crosses his fingers, bites his lip, and shoots a glance at the delicately eavesdropping Tessai, praying to whatever deity is watching in that Ichigo doesn't say something inherently stupid.

"'Cause your hair's so white."

Kisuke bites down hard on his lip and squawks unceremoniously at the blood that comes bursting out. Tessai gives his employer a half-annoyed, slitted look.

However, Ichigo and Ken don't break the staring contest they've engaged in.

"Your hair... you look like a sunrise."

Kisuke jerks back from Tessai's gingerly applied kaidô and stares at Ken for what must be the hundredth time since he came into Kisuke's abode and became one of _his._ That must be the first time Ken has said something that is not purely factual, some way or another.

Ken leans forward hesitantly and his colorless eyes slide over Ichigo's wild locks. "Just like a sunrise."

Ichigo's manner has subdued slightly, and Rukia watches with wide violet eyes. The wild, reckless boy she has grown to know in days has never been so approachable in demeanor before... unless it was his family, his friends, people he chose to love and protect with his life.

"A sunrise, bringing a new day. You say maybe, maybe..."

Ichigo's face softens when Ken's impassive one colors slightly.

"Maybe tomorrow will be better."

( _Tomorrow may never, it may never get better, but he doesn't say that._ )

* * *

 _(He'd forgotten about the Hôgyoku, after a while. He'd forgotten that Ken is technically living off of it. He'd forgotten, and he regrets it.)_

* * *

The day after Rukia is carted off to the Soul Society, and Ichigo is still unconscious, Ken coughs up blood while talking to little Ururu. Kisuke is in the kitchen when Ururu screams, and Jinta darts past him with hell on his expression when Kisuke bangs his rice-paper door open. Normally he would easily surpass Jinta in Shunpo, but he's so shaken that he trips twice and he stumbles into the boy when he tries to brake. Jinta's face is ashen and Kisuke rushes in to assist as Ururu anxiously cries Ken's name, the latter curled onto his side, blood pouring from his mouth.

It's only later, after Tessai and Yoruichi stabilize Ken together, that Kisuke actually wonders why. Then he remembers the Hôgyoku, and that his backup plan, as always, had been Ichigo, Ichigo and his bottomless reserve of reiryoku.

 _Ichigo isn't a Soul Realer anymore._

"Oh fuck," Kisuke says aloud, with horror, as he realizes the fatal slip in judgement he has made. "Oh _fuck_."

How much reiryoku must Ken require to maintain his form now? He has avoided applying konsô for nearly a year, now. The amount of reiryoku he has been siphoning off of the Hôgyoku will surely have increased to an incredible amount in the time he has had it.

With the Hôgyoku's disappearance, and Ichigo's loss of reiryoku, Kisuke may lose Ken in less time than it took to find him.

* * *

As Ken's condition starts to deteriorate rapidly, lacking the sustenance he requires, Ichigo trains hard, making up for his inexperience in these few days. Ken, sensing the end of his carefree ghostly existence drawing near, requests to watch Ichigo's training sessions, pointing out flaws or things that need adjustment in his tremulous voice. Ichigo flourishes under the combination of Kisuke, Tessai, and Ken's watchful guidance, and he improves as quickly as Ken grows weak.

One day, just barely a week before Ichigo and his crew plan to invade the Seireitei, Ken collapses in the dust of the underground training room, light eyelashes fluttering, his breaths faint, and there are sparks of reiatsu dispersing from him, and Kisuke knows, just as Ichigo does, that he will not last much longer. His integrity is completely breaking down, even with Ichigo's reiatsu recovered, because Ken needs more than can be provided. Only the Hôgyoku could save Ken from becoming a spirit now, and that's well and out of their reach.

Kisuke falters as he operates under the thought of never seeing Ken again ( _he can't trust the Soul Society to protect the boy, or even keep him alive in the brutal Rukongai_ ).

This may be the end.

* * *

The night of the invasion is the first time Ichigo's friends meet Ken in person, even if they've heard plenty about him from Yoruichi. Ken's pale and drawn, and his breath rattles in his chest unsteadily. Ichigo kneels beside his futon, amber eyes full of an unidentifiable emotion, because there is no turning back now. They must move on, and Ken cannot go with them.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone and put him out of his misery now.

But Ken suddenly reaches out, grips Ichigo's wrist, and says in his quiet voice, "You're still not ready."

Ichigo freezes. Chad makes to stand, to offer Ichigo support, and Orihime's hands inch up to her temples.

The grin on Ken's face gives Kisuke pause—gives them all pause. Ichigo looks stricken, because if Ken is smiling, this is very clearly the end.

Kisuke doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Maybe both, if time allows.

"Help me up."

It's a soft command, not a dying request, and Ichigo, with numb fingers, complies. Uryû curses silently under his breath, and Kisuke agrees silently ( _Ichigo cannot withstand emotional agony like this right before undertaking a mission that will risk his life_ ).

But instead of smiling and disappearing in a brilliant shower of reiryoku, maybe with a few choice dying words, scarlet bursts from Ken's back with no prior warning at all—not even a flare of reiatsu—and Orihime gives a high scream when a huge blood-red tentacle slithers inches away from her.

Ken, glittering into sparks of reiryoku, says with amusement on his tone, "I talked to Yoruichi-san... Yoruichi-san will tell you what to do and where to find me... I will help train you..."

And softer, his final words to Kisuke before all hell breaks loose: "You _can_ be so gullible, Kisuke-san."

* * *

( _How the fuck was he to know that he had unwittingly subjected his student to the tender mercies of a ghoul's backbreaking training sessions?_ )


	33. Clouds Falling

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Clouds Falling

* * *

 **Summary: Ichigo's all-nighters are always staved off by Ken's quiet presence by his side, both captain and lieutenant identical in loyalty, coffee ready in his hand. "Need more?" "Yes, please."**

 **Yo, this chapter is courtesy of guest TacoEatingUnicorn! Their request was as follows: "** **Ichigo has to do all nighters in order to complete his paperwork. Kaneki is there every morning with coffee to get him through the day."**

 **Admittedly this is angstier than expected, but... we all know what happens when you give me prompts that are supposed to be fluffy.  
**

 **These two are so sweet ;-; my little bbies**

 **Aren't they so similar, though? They're faithful to a fault to everyone they choose, and they'll die before they let go. It just struck me.**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

Ichigo blows a breath from clenched teeth, tucking a hand into his mess of bright orange locks to prop his head up, glaring at the reports on his desk that tell of more, more, more death. Not for the first time, he is bitter about his early ascent into this life, the heartache and migraines that he signed up for without realizing it.

His uncanny abilities have their drawbacks, after all.

Suddenly, he can't stand how stuffy the room is, how much the presence of death clouds him, suffocates him. With wild, vehement movements, he scores inky black lines into the paper with a deceased officer's background on it, his mind blissfully blank and limbs startlingly numb, his thoughts running wild like mice being chased by cats. As he stares at the bleeding parchments with wide, unseeing eyes, he marvels hysterically at how far he's gone down the road of madness. Filing reports of the dead for the dead. Fighting two wars for a society that would have turned their backs on him without a second thought.

"Ichigo."

Ichigo jerks out of the deafening silence to realize that papers are scattered across the room, his reiatsu is seething and positively _out of control_ , screaming, wind howling, an absolute madhouse, chaos, and Ken is right _there_ , right in front of him, expression serenely impassive, an unreadable, unnameable emotion in his mist eyes, hands curled around a mug of steaming coffee. "Again. You're doing it again. Rasgar, stop it—you're doing _it_ again."

And suddenly the screaming grinds to a halt. Ichigo's raging reiatsu—and damn, if he didn't realize that it was his Hollow reiatsu, it was _Rasgar el Cielo_ pitching a fit—slowly settles in his gut, calms down, like a wild dog being told to sit. They stand the middle of the ruin, untouched by a single splinter, a perfect circle of cleanliness surrounding them.

Again.

It happens every so often. Rasgar—or Zangetsu, now, he guesses—will suddenly destabilize, without warning, drive Ichigo's mind inside out like paper wrapping, and Ichigo will rage. He won't know it, he'll be in that feeling of disembodied floating that one feels when they're not in control of their own body, whether they be drunk or possessed, but Rasgar will howl with anguish, and little will have the power to stop him.

Soi Fon, maybe, armed with half her Division at her back.

Tôshirô, maybe, his dragon roaring in tandem, quelling wrath with wrath.

Shinji, most of the time, his Hollow keening lowly, reining Rasgar back in.

Ken, always, armed only with a cup of coffee and a will of steel.

Ken holds out the mug. "Need more?"

Ichigo plops down, suddenly exhausted, the realization that he'd snapped—yes, again, again—snapping at his heels. "Yes, please."

* * *

 **IM AT A SWIM MEET ARMED WITH SUGARY FOODS AND CRAMPING MUSCLES KILL ME NOW**


	34. The Little Things

Flowers From Hell

* * *

The Little Things

* * *

 **Summary: Ghoul Reapers don't get the little things.**

 **Like how Tôshirô probably will never get laid because of this**

 **I honestly just wanted to do a relationship scope but there wasn't any good excuse**

 **You know what's funny this may be the first time I went for angst and came up with humor instead. welp there's a first for everything i guess**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

It's in the middle of a captain's meeting. Tôshirô, the only present Ghoul Reaper, has his kagune out in his own show of intimidation, rather than being petty and flaring his reiatsu like the peacock Kuchiki Byakuya and headstrong Kurosaki Ichigo are doing, shooting irritated looks at each other. There's a long-suffering expression on Soi Fon's face and consternation on Ishida Uryû's, and the Captain-Commander Kyôraku Shunsui isn't making a single attempt to regain control of the room.

Tôshirô gives a little sigh under his breath, and Gin, just down the line and barely in arm's reach of Tôshirô's bristling Ukaku, absentmindedly buries his fingers into the icicle scales.

He honest-to-God wasn't thinking.

There's a wild burst of reiatsu and everyone is thrown back by the sheer force of energy from the young captain. When the dust settles, the gaping captains are treated to the sight of Tôshirô, crouched on all fours like an untamed animal, his teeth bared and his pupils constricted to needlepoint, his Rinkaku thrashing wildly and his Ukaku puffed to look twice its size, his right shoulder shifted forward to aim his right wing at Gin's throat.

There is a deafening silence.

Ichigo, who landed on his ass against the wall and shielded his face with his arms, lowers them, and says, his voice low, "Tôshirô."

Tôshirô doesn't move an inch.

Ichigo's voice is louder now, and an impatient hiss. "Tô-shi- _rô_."

Tôshirô blinks, and suddenly his reiatsu plummets as he deflates, and his kagune shrink back as he leans back and rocks on his heels, looking dazed.

Lisa clears her throat. "I'm sorry, but what the _hell_ was that?"

"Maa, I think we'd all like to know that, Lisa-chan," says Shunsui evenly, tilting his sakkat back to observe his captains from shadowed eyes.

The meeting room is a mess, with the table thrown to the side and the soul reapers themselves strewn everywhere, in various degrees of embarrassment. Soi Fon casually dusts herself off, while Kensei pushes a disgruntled Shinji off of his lap.

Tôshirô's voice is vague when he says, tremulously, "Who was that?"

Uryû shoots him an alarmed look that points out everything wrong with that sentence, and the insinuations made thereof, and Tôshirô realizes this, quickly saying, "No, that's not what I meant—someone..."

The color mounts very faintly in his face and he trails off. There are looks of enlightenment brightening the captains' faces.

"Dude, did someone grope you?"

Tôshirô yelps and actually turns scarlet. "No!" Then he stops, and flushes further, and his Ukaku curls in agitation. "Well..."

Shunsui crows triumphantly, "Our little Shiro-chan's all grown up, enjoying getting felt up!" and ends up with his face in the wall where Rinkaku slammed him in.

Gin coughs and says sheepishly, "Uh, Shiro-chan..."

Tôshirô stares at his significant other for a good ten seconds while what he's saying sinks in. Then Tôshirô says dubiously, "Did you touch my _Ukaku?"_

"Uh, yes."

Tôshirô huffs out a sort strained laugh and says, "Gin, kagune are extremely sensitive. _Extremely sensitive._ Does this mean anything to you?"

There's another long, awkward silence.

* * *

Isane ends up putting the two into couple's therapy. This lasts for about three sessions before Gin puts the "therapist"—a Fourth officer—in the hospital for making indelicate comments about ghouls.

There are jokes about groping for ages after this incident.


	35. as Flowers bloom and fall

Flowers From Hell

* * *

as Flowers bloom and fall

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter:** **Kurosaki seemed to be a metaphorical balm to anyone in need, the panacea of all past and present woes, to an almost fascinating degree. He healed his human friends' broken hearts with words. He mended ravaged soul reapers' mindscapes with actions.**

 **He broke barriers with his scowl.**

 **(Or: Yachiru and Tôshirô and the road to indiscrimination of other species)**

 **We need more Yachiru and** **Tôshirô in our lives, tbh**

 **the title of this chapter is the name of a piano song I'm listening to, absolutely beautiful, and very powerful, try it out**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

When Aizen had them close their eyes, and promised them that it would all be okay, they were fools to believe him.

As far as Yachiru could tell, they were the last of his experiments. He purposefully led them to believe that the Hollowfied captains and lieutenants had done this to them, and ran away from their achievements. They were pretty against the flow of nature, seeing as chimera ghouls were only created through inter-Rc-type reproduction, and they were made through the mashup of a bunch of Aizen's experimental Rc cells.

It was a fucking miracle they didn't die on the spot from the sudden excess of Rc cells.

She and Tôshirô never told anyone. It was a fool's errand to attempt it; they would have been captured, incarcerated, tortured, and executed for their crime of forced transfer of species. Somehow that had become a crime, to become another creature entirely.

They probably would have caught her earlier if she had let on that she was a zanpaku-tô spirit, as well. Thank God she knew how to act right.

They both actively withdrew from company when they could. They hated to be part of the spotlight because of the risks. Tôshirô was noticeably crueler after the ordeal, and Yachiru herself became uncaring. Her victims were just names. Their blood was just like paint—accidental stains on the floor, nothing more.

They spent the last twenty (thirty?) years, suffering in their silent agony.

Then came Kurosaki Ichigo, riding the crest of a wave of war.

He brought with him the fresh pain of truth: Aizen had turned them into atrocities, not the exiles. It wasn't a relief, exactly, but it was less a boulder pressing cold and heavy upon their chests and more of a scattering of stones clogging their airways, but it was easier, to know that now Soul Society was actively waging war against the bastard that forced them to become something that they were never meant to be.

Yachiru visited Tôshirô in the hospital, after Aizen had screwed them all over pretty well. She told him about the truth, which he had suspected but never acted upon, and about the anomaly, Kurosaki Ichigo, whom Tôshirô had not actually come face-to-face with, only heard of.

Then Kurosaki Ichigo actually visited Tôshirô, and bowed his head to him, apologizing for being too late to save Momo (whoever told Kurosaki about her would pay for it later, Yachiru could tell from the shaking hands of her fellow chimera ghoul).

Tôshirô liked Kurosaki enough, after that.

It didn't heal the aching hole in his heart left by a certain tall twisted asshole who also left behind a distraught sister, but it did help to patch it some.

Kurosaki seemed to be a metaphorical balm to anyone in need, the panacea of all past and present woes, to an almost fascinating degree. He healed his human friends' broken hearts with words. He mended ravaged soul reapers' mindscapes with actions.

He broke barriers with his scowl.

Then he left, after the Winter War, but his mark still burned fire-bright on Soul Society, because on the wake of his devastation, on wings of mercy, came the Vizard, offered positions in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. With the Vizard came promises of mercy to the traitor, the traitor who was loved by more people than he deserved, loved so dearly that he was granted pardon.

Tôshirô and Yachiru had exchanged a look that day, a look that spoke more than a thousand words ever could.

Then Kurosaki came back. And following in his footsteps was a silent, white-haired shadow.

They knew, as soon as they saw him, that he was their skeleton key. Kurosaki shattered the skewed perceptions about Quincies, and Hollows, and Vizard, armed with his stupendous ignorance and willingness to protect regardless of who his protected were.

The white-haired shadow would be their ticket to be able to walk freely in a courtyard with their kagune streaming proudly from their backs.

Tôshirô and Yachiru tracked the white-haired shadow down, after people knew about his kagune and accepted him. They told him, and the stones clogging their lungs seemed to lighten, for the first time in near half a century.

And people laughed a little when they announced that they, too, were ghouls, looking at their stony faces and writhing kagune, and beamed, and asked, "Why did you wait so long?"

They were so startled, and so relieved, that they laughed, too, for real, for the first time in near half a century again, but later, as Yachiru lay with her head pillowed in the crook of Tôshirô's arm, her own arm from the elbow down turned into a blade to admire her own glint in the moonlight, Tôshirô mimicked bitterly, **"Why did you wait so long?"** , his two-toned voice raw and bleeding into the grass.

Yachiru gave her ice cream bells' giggle and replied, just as vitriolic, **"Only until a human boy appeared from the sky and changed what you ancient soul reapers couldn't bring yourselves to alter."**

The resent that had festered over fifty years still bubbled like magma in their guts.


	36. Secret Arc III: The Faustian Desire

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Secret Arc III: The Faustian Desire

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Faustian—adj. sacrificing spiritual values for power, knowledge, or material gain. Uryû looks back on his own seizure of the Twelfth Division and marvels at how well the word describes madman Kurotsuchi Mayuri.**

 **OKAY! READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE CAREFULLY!**

 **I noticed really recently that I kind of dropped the premise of Flowers From Hell on readers without warning, and that the first chapter is just a prelude with no context from the original series, basically a spin-off crack drabble series. So, the next update may take up to two weeks, because I plan to replace the first chapter with a proper introduction out of necessity, from the end of the anime series and the Ginjô shitcircumstance to how Ichigo became the Fifth Division captain. Due to the chapter rearranging that this entails (why doesn't FanFiction let me put another chapter in between another one?) it will look as though the chapter "Scarred"—which is actually chapter three—is the new update to the story. THIS IS NOT CORRECT. THE NEW UPDATE WILL BE IN THE FIRST CHAPTER. I also plan to put in a table of contents in the first chapter with summaries for each chapter, but that's actually up for discussion, so you guys tell me if you'd prefer a table of contents in the new first chapter.**

 **You may also notice that I've added a "story arc" tag to the chapters "Got a Secret", "Can You Keep It", and this one, "The Faustian Desire". Chapters that have a correlation with each other in a normal story format, with connected storylines, will have the arc name in front of the chapter name, to keep different stories together and easier to keep track of.**

 **OKAY! ON TO STORY RECONSTRUCTION! SEE YOU IN, LIKE, TWO WEEKS!**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

When Uryû comes back to Soul Society for the first time after Ichigo gets the Fifth Division captaincy, it's to the staggering revelation that the Tenth Division captain and the Eleventh Division lieutenant, by far the youngest powers in the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions in aesthetic, have survived some of Aizen's most twisted experiments.

When Ichigo tells him this, Uryû's jaw drops. He's unsure what to feel—he doesn't know the two all that intimately, after all—but he definitely knows what to think, and it's that among Aizen's experiments, Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenant Kusajishi are some of the most interesting.

He's disgusted by his scientist's brain's involuntary attraction towards the thought of the achievements that the scum Aizen has achieved, but he can't help admitting the fact that it was cruel, would have been unusually so if it weren't for the Vizard's existence. He has noticed the bitter emotions dancing across Lieutenant Kusajishi's wary face that surface briefly every time she interacts with a Vizard, and he's certain it's because if it weren't for them, their case would have been more extensively surveyed. Because the horrendous case of Hollow reiatsu being injected into a soul reaper already exists, members of the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions think that high levels of Rc cells being drawn out of a soul reaper is no big thing. Captain Hitsugaya hides his thoughts much better, but his reiatsu flutters in discomfort when he interacts with the Vizards, and everyone knows that reiatsu never lies.

However, even if people don't recognize the two's distance from the Vizards, they certainly notice the newfound interest Kurotsuchi shows them.

It puts them all on edge, especially Lieutenant Kaneki, their fellow ghoul. Kurotsuchi knows plenty about ghouls and Rc cells and all the scientific insanity that comes with them, but he has never encountered chimera ghouls, and especially not artificially created chimera ghouls, something that is impossible to achieve with the technology in the human world.

It's a little sad to Uryû that though soul reapers heal with energy, faith, and herbs, they have the equipment available to completely alter the natural order, something humans, whose technology is dedicated to the luxury of material comforts, cannot begin to grasp.

It's still pretty mellow, though, and it's only after the meeting that Kurotsuchi becomes a little more... strange.

* * *

"Oh— _oh_ —"

Captain Hitsugaya jerks like he was stuck with a live wire and _leaps_ , skidding across the table that the Captain-Commander set there some time ago, his unique kagune shooting from his back and twitching violently in aggravation. Several people, including Uryû himself, start backward from the table, and the captain of the Tenth crashes into Ichigo standing opposite of him, who catches him and bares his teeth, his eyebrows arching in the beginnings of a livid fury.

"What the hell was that, huh?" he shouts at Kurotsuchi, who was standing close to Captain Hitsugaya. Soi Fon, who was lounging about on his opposite side, subtly shifts her weight to the side that is farthest from him, ready to make a swift exit. "What the hell was that?!"

Kurotsuchi twists his head at an odd 90-degree angle that looks deeply unnatural. Orihime stifles a quiet gasp from behind Uryû, and he moves slightly to block her view, his brows knitted together. "Why, whatever do you mean, _Captain Kurosaki?"_

His withering tone belies the glint of excitement in his bulging, maniacal eyes when he stares directly at Ichigo, seemingly into his soul, at the soul full of Hollow reiatsu and soul reaper blood, of the taint of a Fullbring's touch and the chaos of a Vizard's instability. It sets Uryû's teeth on edge and raises the hair on the back of his neck, the way Kurotsuchi looks at Ichigo, as though he were an exceptionally prepared meal ready for dining.

No... it's not just Ichigo he's looking at.

As Kurotsuchi's eyes spin about in their sockets, Uryû feels gooseflesh rising on his arms, his eyes widening in realization.

He's staring at the smaller captain in Ichigo's arms, too.

He's staring at Captain Hitsugaya.

Aforementioned captain swings his arms from Ichigo's grip, disgruntled, deactivating his kakugan, his kagune fading away like mist. A dank, spicy smell—not unlike cinnamon, though a little more coppery, like blood—permeates the room in response to the spike in Rc cell content, and Lieutenant Kaneki's lip curls downward in disdain as he shuffles forward minutely to lock eyes with Kurotsuchi. The cool gaze has a message behind it.

 _Lay a hand on what is mine, and I will ruin you._

Captain Zaraki, as well, pushes a large, scarred hand in front of Lieutenant Kusajishi, his eye narrowed and his reiatsu jolting restlessly, skyrocketing then plummeting as he wrestles to keep it under control as Ichigo did once. Lieutenant Kusajishi looks grim, and she exchanges brief looks with Lieutenant Kaneki and Captain Hitsugaya.

The tension in the room grows thick enough to be sliced with plastic cutlery.

And Uryû, even though he's an outsider, _knows_.

"There was a glint in your hand. What the hell was that? A _scalpel?"_ Ichigo's voice has risen in volume, and he's all but spitting Gran Rey Cero, sending an echo through the silent room. It's a testament to how wired everyone else is that they don't stop him or hush him.

"Answer him," Uryû snaps. Eyes turn to him, surprised, because he's typically made it a rule of thumb not to speak at all in soul reaper meetings unless directly addressed, but this is begging for his attention, because Ichigo has a damn way about him that makes all his friends want to protect each other as much as he protects them, and oh, hell no, Kurotsuchi isn't laying a hand on someone Ichigo deems important. "Kurotsuchi. Answer him. What have you got in your hand?"

Captain Hitsugaya's voice is nearly an octave higher than normal when he says, "He stuck me with something. Thin. Long. A needle?" Even shaken, his voice is steady and damning in all its young wisdom. His childlike aesthetic and certainty spells conviction for the other.

Kurotsuchi shoots a dirty look at Captain Hitsugaya, but there's a loud, sharp cough, and the attention in the room directs itself towards Captain-Commander Kyôraku, who leans back on his heels, his eyes narrowed. "Now, that, Ishida-kun, is a very good question." His sidelong look settles on Kurotsuchi. "Answer the kid, Captain Kurotsuchi."

Kurotsuchi scoffs a little but complies, raising his hand and revealing a syringe half-filled with some liquid—which, Uryû notes, is a deep crimson—and says, "A simple drawing of blood, nothing more. It was nothing that could harm our young captain of the Tenth."

There is no justifying note in his voice, only satisfaction. Uryû's stomach flips.

He thinks he is at perfect liberty to take the blood of Captain Hitsugaya.

Captain-Commander Kyôraku must see Ichigo swell, turning black in the face with rage, out of the corner of his eye, because his reiatsu comes crashing down on them all, and Uryû's breath catches in his throat. Beside him, Orihime clutches her arms with white knuckles and Chad sways unnervingly, but Ichigo draws himself up, the picture of insolence, his own reiatsu rising in tandem to fight against his superior's. The Captain-Commander arches an eyebrow.

"Now, Ichigo-kun. Watch the attitude."

And the reiatsu falls twice as heavy, and Uryû doubles over, because the blood is pounding in his ears, and he can't think or breathe—

The reiatsu lifts all too suddenly, leaving a gaping emptiness behind. Everyone is visibly shaken other than Ichigo, whose chin is still high and his back still straight, untouched, steady to the core. Uryû watches the silent struggle of pride happening between the Captain-Commander and Ichigo and prays that the latter doesn't say or do anything stupider than he already has, the great oaf.

He needn't have gone to such lengths, however, because after near a minute of crushing quiet, Ichigo's amber eyes widen infinitesimally and he chokes silently on whatever furious words were hanging at his lips.

"Captain Kurotsuchi, please refrain from such activities against others of the Thirteen Court Guard Divisions," says Captain-Commander Kyôraku with infuriating cheer, and Uryû's teeth grind as Kurotuchi replies flippantly, "It is of no consequence."

A week later, Lieutenant Kusajishi goes missing.

* * *

Uryû's asleep when the door slams open, and he bolts upright, his glasses already halfway towards the bridge of his nose. "What the—"

"Ishida!" Ichigo is standing there, half of his haori hanging off of his shoulders and tossed over the cornflower blue yukata he sleeps in, his hair windswept and sticking up every which way, his eyes wild. That's not his usual, casual unkempt grace—he's genuinely frazzled, and it's this knowledge that has Uryû tumbling out of his futon and out into the hallway of Ichigo's house, tying his obi with shaking hands. From further down the hallway, Orihime bursts out, her hair flaring and a World-of-the-Living pink sweater thrown over her flower-print yukata, and Chad pokes his head out of his own room, his gray yukata barely able to accommodate him.

"What's happened, Kurosaki?" Uryû demands, because there is panic in Ichigo's voice and on his face, and it's raising Uryû's own anxiety without even knowing the reason. "What's going on?"

Ichigo turns, and there is a Hollow on his breath as he hisses, **"Yachiru's gone."**

* * *

Captain Zaraki is in a silent agony, his shoddy Flash-Step suddenly perfect as he zips in and out of sight, bellowing Lieutenant Kusajishi's name with growing desperation.

Captain Hitsugaya's beyond reason without his fellow chimera, screaming into the night with the animalistic shrieks of a lost ghoul, his ukaku straining and his rinkaku stabbing at any living creature that comes close. Only a single word can be made out from his howling, one that has Lieutenant Matsumoto's hands shaking and Third Seat Hinamori's eyes watery.

 ** _Yachiru..._**

There is a monster brewing in Ichigo's soul, rising in the line of his shoulders, as his curses grow more and more incoherent and his sclerae grow blacker and blacker until he's barely a hair away from going into Resurrección, his mask gathering slowly on his face and half of another voice building layers upon his own. His fury will be his undoing.

Lieutenant Kaneki skids to a stop beside Uryû, and for a moment, Uryû stares into the ghoul's face, takes in the emotionless eyes of black and scarlet, and tries to conjure up every recollection of ghouls and their dangerous habits he can, but the moment passes, and the lieutenant says, his voice flat and low, "Ishida-san?"

Uryû recognizes the wariness weighing his words and the look he shoots at the seconds-from-snapping Ichigo and speaks from behind a hand and clenched teeth. "Yes?"

"It has to be him."

Uryû bites his lip. "I know. God..."

Lieutenant Kaneki's eyes catch his. "Care to accompany me?"

Uryû huffs out a heavy sigh and lets his reishi gather around his gloved hand. "I haven't got a choice."

They nearly race each other to the Twelfth Division doors, avoiding any reiatsu signatures. Ichigo's is bubbling and about to froth over, Captain Hitsugaya's is violently mutated, and Lieutenant Kaneki's still. No doubt he's cloaking it with his kakugan.

They share a moment of apprehensive silence in front of the damningly silent Twelfth Division doors. Then Lieutenant Kaneki turns and gestures toward them with his head. "May I?"

Uryû braces himself and nods.

* * *

 _Oh God._

 _OhGodohGodohGod he's right there, it's his grandfather on his knees, his body being defiled by the filthy soul reaper who doesn't deserve the right to live—_

But no, that's a girl's shrill cry, and Lieutenant Kaneki tearing from his side and pouncing upon the Twelfth Division cap—the _monster_ —his kakugan activating and his rinkaku bursting from the small of his back, his quiet words contrasting sharply against the chaos of falling glass and spilling surgical tools and a little girl's dry sobs— **"I will ruin you, you damn monster, you less-than-human—"**

Nemu reaches out, her slender hand splayed in alarm, but Uryû catches it and pushes it back to her chest, and when she gives him a questioning look, her delicate black eyes blinking inquisitively, he shakes his head, runs to release a shaking Lieutenant Kusajishi from her bindings.

The madly fluctuating reiatsu of all inhabitants of the room and the tumult emanating from within is beginning to draw some people close. As he awkwardly lifts Lieutenant Kusajishi into his arms, Uryû hollers over the indignant shrieks of Kurotsuchi and Lieutenant Kaneki's even, wrathful sentences, "Lieutenant Kaneki—we need to clean things up! _Now!"_

The Captain-Commander himself arrives in time to grab Kurotsuchi's arm, twist it horrendously behind his back, and say languidly, "Now, Captain Kurotsuchi, this is beyond unacceptable." He grabs the mad scientist by the headdress and says, his cheerful voice painted with murder, "My man, you've crossed a line, here."

As he's dragged away, Kurotsuchi begins, finally, to scream, not in annoyance but in anguish and desperation, babbling in a high-pitched voice about his findings, his science, his fascinating living experiments, how close he was to surpassing that man, surpassing Aizen.

"Only in cruelty," murmurs an uncharacteristically grave Lieutenant Kusajishi from behind Captain Zaraki's back.

Then, Kurotsuchi begind to wail for his best creation, for the first and only thing he ever truly felt human attachment to.

"Nemu!" he shrieks, straining with a white hand and black fingernails towards his daughter, the girl who obeyed his every word and whom he abused relentlessly in turn. "Nemu! Kurotsuchi Nemu, I love you, I love you, I love you, my daughter, my creation, I love you..."

When his screams die out, and everyone everts each other's eyes furtively, Nemu tugs hesitantly on Uryû's yukata sleeve, and when he looks at her, she tilts her head, her dark glossy hair spilling over her shoulder. "Ishida-san, what is 'love'?"

Uryû doesn't feel an ounce of pity for Kurotsuchi. He does, however, feel a twinge at the situation in which they parted. The father who finally, after years of abuse and pain and misery, admitted his paternal feelings toward his one daughter, whom, having never heard that string of words, would never know what her creator meant in their final moments together.

"I'm not the person to ask, Nemu-san."

* * *

Ishida Uryû, with cold eyes and a heart of steel, pulls back a reishi arrow to send Kurotsuchi Mayuri to Hell.

Then, by all rights, he is the Captain of the Twelfth Division.

As he stands before the slaughterhouse that Kurotsuchi Mayuri created, just one of many of his mad musings, Uryû wonders how many scientists ran this division before him.

He wonders if they all gave in to Faustian desires as Kurotsuchi did.


	37. Scarred

Flowers From Hell

* * *

Scarred

* * *

 **Summary for this chapter: Held together by half a dozen strings and a mask of black leather. Held together by a scarlet length of chain woven with blood-red petals. Held together by duty—or a sense of it, anyway.**

 **Some chapters will not be part of the actual canon's storyline until I give the word by way of popularity. This chapter is a kind of test to see how the non-canon chapters are received. If they are warmly welcomed, more different non-canon chapters will be posted, though the actual chapters will be posted as well. Again, you wanna know what's happening, ya gotta read dis :3**

 **This is kinda like a dystopian future kind of thing. A hard, weary war is finally over—after the sacrifice of several of the Thirteen Court Guard Squad Shinigami and the retirement of the Captain-Commander. Hilarious!**

 **Oh, yeah, this is from Ken's point of view. If that wasn't obvious to you. (No offense intended.)**

 **THIS IS THE OLD CHAPTER THREE—IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR THE ACTUAL NEW CHAPTER, IT'S THE NEW CHAPTER THREE. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY**

 **Still don't own 'em...**

* * *

"Captain Commander Yamamoto. The enemy has fallen," reports young Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro from his position on top of a branch. He is perched upon it as though he were a bluejay, ready to take flight at the word of his master.

"Understood. Call in the troops," replies the Captain-Commander with an ancient sigh. He is relatively unscathed, which angers something deep within you, until you realize that he unscathed on the outside. Inside, he is scarred.

You watch as the remaining captains Flash-Step to the cliff Yamamoto is sitting at. He stands with some difficulty and assesses the scraggly remnants of his pride and joy, the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

Captain Kyouraku looks near-dead, his eyes dull and his tasteful pink haori long since forgone for his white one, which is nearly gray from the dust of the now-empty plains. Lieutenant Ise is limping heavily and her left arm from the elbow down is gone, bandaged by someone else's torn shihakushô.

You suspect that that someone else was a fallen comrade.

Shaolin is silent, ever the loyal one. Her forehead is badly cut, and it appears as though some creature has chewed upon her haori, which is shredded to the point of humility. Lieutenant Ōmaeda is nowhere in sight, and it is very clear to you that he is dead, obliterated like the army that you have been fighting for over a decade.

Lieutenant Kira is kneeling in the rock, hair shaggy where your captain had insisted would help his eyesight in the battlefield. He is shaking, his hands sliding over his arms in an attempt to tame the fear shuddering through him. The end of the war did not signal the end of his terror. How he has managed to climb up to the Lieutenant's spot in the Third Division is far beyond you.

Captain Kotetsu's wide eyes are slitted as her own former captain's had been in life. She is securing bandages around her lieutenant's stomach, while the latter, Yamada Hanatarō, winces and pulls away the needle from stitching a gash in Captain Kotetsu's back.

Ichigo-san, with a profusely bleeding wound decorating his abdomen, is leaning heavily against you, counting upon you to keep him upright. He still has all of his appendages, but his zanpaku-tô was nearly shattered, and he has hit the rock bottom of his reiryoku to repair it. Even now, he's sagging, threatening to lose consciousness.

Captain Kuchiki is lying on the ground, while a Third Seat from the Fourth Division tourniquets his right leg, which has been lost from the mid-thigh down. Half of Lieutenant Abarai's sad face is horribly disfigured, burnt from one of the enemy's zanpaku-tô.

Both Captain Komamura and Lieutenant Iba have toppled in battle, the former just a few weeks previously. They were heavy blows, but mourning was short-lived, and wrath replaced it. You know that hatred of the enemy multiplied in stature after the loss of every Shinigami, but Captain Komamura meant losing both a respected figure and a military disadvantage.

Lieutenants Hisagi and Kuna are sitting on the same rock, back to back, refusing to acknowledge one another, and everyone knows that, deep down, both blame the other for the loss of subordinates in the Ninth Division.

Toshiro-kun has fallen to the ground after relaying his message, one arm hanging limp beside him, staining the ground beneath him red. There is a long gash along his chest, and his lieutenant, Matsumoto Rangiku, is carrying him, her hair cut short when she was told that long hair was a nuisance in battle, part of her cheek torn off.

Captain Zaraki is hunched over the limp body of Lieutenant Kusajishi, his body littered with injuries. You can see the one that stole away Lieutenant Kusajishi's life, a seemingly-inconsequential hole through her forehead, dying her pink hair an ugly crimson.

Captain Kurotsuchi has disappeared, but Nemu-san is there, and if her twisted expression is anything to go upon, he is probably dead. Or perhaps more fittingly, you think with a surge of smug, vicious satisfaction, he was captured and slowly tortured to death. The thought is sweet on your tongue, reminiscent of the last peppermint candy you'd ever had before the war.

Captain Ukitake is wasting away, coughing with blood on his breath, but he was always wasting away in the first place, and even with your untrained eye, you can see that he will survive past the immediate now. Lieutenant Kuchiki is on her hands and knees, hacking away; she had caught an illness that was circulating the troops for quite a while, but she, too, will be fine. The Thirteenth Division will not lose their leaders.

How fortunate. You feel a stab of bitterness.

Hide is still alive. You can see him, and feel blissful relief, because you had calmed your nerves this past decade with the scant knowledge that, as a Fifth Seat, Hide would not be in the direct line of fire. You had hoped he wouldn't be a seated officer at all, but of course that was too much to hope for.

He is remarkably unharmed except for a long burn along his forearm, which you can see because of the singed-away spirit cloth. Nothing that can't be healed. Ice seems to run through your veins despite the warming sensation of relief and you shiver.

"Analyzing... Everyone...?"

You start. You had not realized that Ichigo-san had the energy to see what you were doing, let alone understand it. "Ichigo-san, you shouldn't be speaking. Rest."

"I can't... As a captain... not when Old Man Yamamoto's... About to say something important..." Sure enough, Captain-Commander Yamamoto's resolute eyes slide over the others and latch onto Captain Kurosaki, who gives a sort of huff and tries (read: tries) to straighten slightly.

"Looks like... Old Man Yamamoto's... Made his decision..." Your eyes narrow, trying to discern the entire conversation passing between somewhat reluctant pupil and wizened teacher. As it is, you apparently cannot translate thin air, and your concentration is slipping because of Captain Ukitake's ragged gasps.

"Captains, lieutenants, and seated and non-seated officers of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, we have emerged from this war victorious." Captain-Commander Yamamoto's voice is heavy. "However, we have suffered a plethora of casualties, and during this past decade it has come to my attention that I am deteriorating. My age gives me away to frailty, and frailty cannot be allowed within those who must protect and serve all."

A wave of murmurs and resigned nods ripples through the crowd. You purse your lips, but silently, you concur with the eons-old Shinigami's wisdom. After this war, he could have gone perhaps one or two more years before people began to whisper of his incompetence, and demand his resignation. To retire now is the easier choice. It will give the people new hope in the form of a new Captain-Commander.

"As my last act as Captain-Commander, I shall appoint my successor." His dark eyes open slightly, and they once more alight upon your captain and friend. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

You jaw drops. You can't help it.

Ichigo-san is the Captain-Commander?

Yamamoto-dono explodes into reishi particles, and there is silence for several heartbeats.

Ichigo-san shifts slightly so that he is facing you. "Go... ahead," he murmurs in shallow gasps. "You want to leave... The blood... With Nagachika-kun... Right? Go... Ahead."

You swallow. Such a tempting offer. Before, when Yamamoto-dono was in power, deserters would be punished. But now you have the chance to run, and with Hide. Alone, away from this Hell. You two... Could be free.

Held together by half a dozen strings and a mask of black leather. Held together by a scarlet length of chain woven with blood-red petals. Held together by duty—or a sense of it, anyway. There is nothing keeping you from doing it—except for your duty.

"I will stay, Captain-Commander."


End file.
